


Winchester Drabbles/Short Works

by NaughtySammyBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But Mostly Smut, F/M, Smut, Some feels too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtySammyBoy/pseuds/NaughtySammyBoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short pieces revolving around the Winchester brothers. Each chapter's a different scenario, a smutty, pantie-sizzling scenario.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean; Domesticate Me

**Author's Note:**

> Just because I'm a smut junkie whose boredom before college finals got the best of her.

Dean presses you into mattress with his weight, wrenching your arms up to hold them above your head, his rough hands wrapped tightly around your wrists. He pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth, chuckling darkly as you whimper and arch your naked hips up into his. 

 

_So full_ , you think. _I feel so full._

 

Dean pushes into you with a brutal speed, his hips fast and precise as they slide back and forth between your trembling thighs. He mouths at your jawline, groaning and growling and gnashing his teeth together in pleasure as he fucks you like a man plagued by savagery. He whispers pure filth into your ear, praising your body and teasing you for the way you try to control the volume of your sounds— _always the considerate one._

 

You're so close, so close to falling apart under Dean when a cry that belongs to neither you _or_ Dean pierces through the hot, humid air surrounding you. "Dammit," Dean chuckles against your flushed cheek, halting his hips and pulling out of you so slowly that you gasp sharply at how sensitive you are. "I got'er," he whispers sweetly, dropping a kiss on your swollen lips before grabbing his long robe and leaving the room.

 

You roll onto your stomach and press your face into a pillow, smiling as you hear the door of the nursery open via the baby monitor sitting on the bedside table. "You got horrible timin', kid," you hear him say in a gentle voice, a soft chuckle following his comment. You guess he's picked her up because the crying ceases a few minutes later. "You just needed a little cuddle, didn't ya?" Dean questions; you can hear the smile in his voice through the static of the monitor. 

 

The low rumble of his humming comes a few moments later, soon evolving into a full on husky, deep-vibratoed lullaby designed to comfort your baby girl. You grin into the pillow, your chest swelling at the image you create in your head—Dean rocking her in his arms as he looks down at her with a love like no other in his emerald eyes.

 

You don't remember falling asleep, but you wake slowly when Dean crawls back into bed and husks "I ain't done with you just yet, sweetheart" in your ear.


	2. Sam; Inconvenient Quickie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam decides he just has to have you...in the middle of a very important investigation surrounding your latest hunt.

"Sam, we can't _do_ this right now," you whisper harshly, trying to _not_ feel turned on as he pushes you up against the wall of some random ass utility closet. "We don't have time!"

 

"Well, _make_ _time_ ," he growls into the crook of your neck, shoving his hands up the pencil skirt of your FBI attire to rip your panties down. "I'm hard as a fuckin' rock right now and it's all _your_ fault," he bites out through clenched teeth, grabbing your hips and spinning you around so one of your flushed cheeks is pressed against the wall. He pushes the skirt up, letting it sit bunched up around your hips so your bare ass is exposed to him. "Just had to wear the _tight_ skirt this time," he husks, "Had to go and get me all _distracted_ while we interviewed the witnesses."

 

"Just shut up and _fuck me_ , Sam," you breathe, wiggling your hips as you hear the familiar sound of his zipper's teeth grinding as he opens it. Sam presses himself up against your back, still fully clothed in his own FBI suit. You gasp and reach out to grab at the flat surface of the wall when Sam shoves his cock up inside you from behind, the stretch of him slick and hot and . . . _everything_.

 

The pace he sets isn't gentle, his thrusts quick and harsh. He's cursing under his breath and nosing at the nape of your neck, which is perfectly exposed due to the neat ponytail your hair is up in. He's got one hand wrapped around your throat and the other's shoved between your soft thighs, two thick calloused fingertips making quick circles around your throbbing little clit.

 

"Come with me, you dirty girl," he demands in your ear. You do as you're told, clenching around Sam and chocking on a moan as his hand tightens around your throat just enough for stars to appear in your vision. You feel the heat of Sam releasing deep inside you, his hips pounding himself through it as he moans, your name falling from his lips, nestled between curses and swears.

 

You both take a few minutes to catch your breath, both knowing that Dean is probably pissed as fuck that you've both gone missing. Sam makes quick work of pushing his now softened, completely soaked cock back into his pants, pulling your skirt back down into place around your thighs after.

 

"Let's see how good you hold my load _without_ your panties," Sam smirks, twirling the lace around his index finger before shoving them into the front pocket of his slacks. 

 

"Asshole," you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes at him and exiting the closet, Sam following behind chuckling.


	3. Sam; Four's The Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest here. Sam lives for cunnilingus.

"How many's that so far?" Sam questions you in a roughly rasped voice, coming up from between your widely spread legs for a small break to catch his breath. He teethes at your inner thighs, the ends of his lengthy hair tickling your skin and leaving goosebumps in their path.

  

"Three!" You gasp, still trembling with your latest release. The pillow beneath your head is clenched in your fists tightly, your skin slicked over by a thin sheen of sweat. You feel like you're throbbing all over, the strongest point being between your thighs where you're slick and swollen.

 

"Hmmm," Sam hums against your hip as he places small kisses along skin covering the jutting bone of it, gliding across your lower belly to repeat it on the other one. "Let's make it an even _four_ and _then_ I'll give you my cock."

 

"Oh my _god_."


	4. Dean; Road + Head = A Happy Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car blowies are fun.

"I swear to—" Dean hisses through his teeth, one of his hands fisted in your hair as your head bobs, your lips wrapped around his hard cock as you suck him off in the front seat of the Impala. "You're gonna make me crash," he tells you in a rough voice, "And then I'm gonna fuckin' _throttle_ you."

 

You chuckle around him, completely unfazed by his empty threat as you loosen your lips to tease at his sensitive cockhead. You smirk when you swirl your tongue around it, Dean's growl a sure-fire sign that he's about two-point-five seconds away from just pulling over and pounding you into the leather seat.

 

You knew damn well Dean had set a _very_ strict schedule for this trip. He wanted to make it to Newberry in time to meet back up with Sam, get filled in on the case, and _still_ have enough time to get breakfast at a diner he'd been talking about since Sam had told him where the hunt was. Dean was _such_ a sucker for Carolina diners.

 

You, on the other hand, had craved something _completely_ different. During the first few hours of the ride, you kept looking over at Dean as he drove. He had shed his flannel because it was air was filled with summer heat, leaving him in a black t-shirt that hugged his upper body in the most delicious way, the short sleeves showing off his strong arms. You had watched the way one of his hands gripped the steering wheel with an accustomed grip, the other hanging out of the rolled down window, tapping at the warmed metal of the door outside as an old classic rambled through the speakers. His face was contorted in concentration as he stared down the long countryside road in front him, his jaw clenching every now and again.

 

"Whoa!" He had howled in surprise when you sneakily, and in quick succession, climbed to your knees in your seat and leaned over the bench, your hand reaching into his lap for the zip of his jeans to tug it down like a woman starved. "A warning woulda been nice, princess. I damn near swerved right into a ditch!"

 

"Gotta keep you on your toes, Deany Boy."

 

And you did _just_ that. You sucked him down over and over again without hesitation, sighing and moaning around him as he did the same above you, a fist in your hair as he tried his damnedest to keep his eyes on the road instead of watching you swallow him down like he wanted to. He growls out a string of curses when you push him deep into your throat, his hips slightly bucking up at the feeling.

 

"Okay, that's it," he suddenly says to himself, slowing the car and pulling over to the side of the road. He kills the engine then slides both hands into your hair to hold your head in place. You moan in delight because you know _exactly_ what's coming.

 

Dean thrusts up into your mouth, sliding into your throat so quickly that you have to hold back the gagging feeling that pulls at the back of it. He sets a steady speed, one that's not too rough but not too gentle either—the perfect middle ground between the two. "You like when I fuck your mouth, don't you, sweetheart?" He husks out with a moan trailing behind it. You echo his moan in reply, spit dripping from your mouth down his thick shaft, making the slide of him slick and easy between your lips.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I know you do," he husks with a smirk, "I hope someone passes us and sees me fuckin' your pretty mouth. I want to see the look on their face when they see you actin' like such a _needy_ little cockslut for me." 

 

You're drenched between your legs, your cotton panties clinging to your weeping center and revealed by the denim miniskirt you're wearing riding up as you quiver with want. Dean releases your hair and you pull up off his cock to lay your head on his thigh, watching with heavily-lidded eyes as his strokes himself. "Open up," he commands with a moan, "Wanna come on that dirty little tongue of yours."

 

You obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as you pant and flex your hips, your back arching and your ass hanging up in the air. You moan and shut your eyes as spurts of warm white come hit your tongue . . . and your cheek, chin, and nose. Dean may have had a killer aim with a gun, but not so much with a money-shot. A smaller string even painted the eyelashes of one eye and you couldn't help but chuckle.

 

"Holy fuck!" Dean gasps, letting his head fall back as he strokes himself a few more times, truly milking himself for all he's worth. You sit up then, your spunk-assaulted eye scrunched closed as you open the glovebox to retrieve a tissue, swiping at your eye until it's come-free. You use your fingers to clean the rest of Dean's come off your face, feeding it to yourself as Dean watches with glossy, dazed eyes.

 

"You're a terrible shot," you tease him, crawling back towards him and sealing your lips to his. He moans into your mouth, rolling his tongue around yours, tasting himself on it. You echo it back to him as you climb into his lap, teething at his plump bottom lip. You gently rub yourself down against his spent cock through your panties, gasping into his mouth when he wrenches your denim skirt up to roughly grab at your ass, giving you a sharp slap on one cheek, the pain of it only dulled a small fraction by the thin cotton covering it.

 

"You're in trouble now, princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got kinda lengthy because, I mean, come on! Giving Dean Winchester a blowjob can't be described in less than a few hundred words tbh.


	5. Dean & Sam; They Say Three's Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a threesome with the Winchester brothers to finish the night off, filled with DP (no pun intended), Dean's tongue in your ass at some point, and a heavy dose of Winchester lovin'.
> 
> (Okay, admittedly this could have been uploaded as a one-shot all on its own because it is over 3,000 words and its nowhere near the category of 'short' OR 'drabble-like' but . . . oh well *shrugs and sips teas*)

It was the last thing you _ever_ expected to happen. 

 

You had spent the beginning of the night sitting at the busy bar alone with a mixed drink in your hand, mindlessly tonguing at the thin black straw that came with it, your eyes traveling between Sam and Dean from across the room as they chatted up two moderately attractive women with confident purpose in their eyes. You say _moderately_ because the backwater town you're currently stuck in for a case didn't have the best selection of women to choose from . . . or _men_ for that matter.

 

When the boredom of sitting by yourself at the bar and deflecting the attention of the average Johns surrounding you started to become a nuisance, you decide you were tired of just _sitting around_. You shed your leather jacket and laid it up on the bar, leaving you in a short-sleeve top with a low-cut neck line that revealed plenty of pushed up cleavage. You know that the jeans you you’re wearing made your ass look phenomenal and you _definitely_ use that to your advantage as you sway your hips with your walk, your eyes on the fancy looking jukebox with a beer in your hand.

 

You smirk as you pull a dollar bill from you back pocket, feeding it into the money slot and tapping your booted foot on the ground to the song currently playing throughout the buzzing bar. You smirk as you select of few upbeat, hip-swinging Luke Bryan songs, spending the last of your credits on some classic R&B hits. When you start up your selections, you turn towards the dance floor with a smirk on your lips. You automatically find Dean's gaze, his eyes now on _you_ instead of the woman desperately trying to hold his attention as she drapes herself over his shoulder. The liquid courage pumping through you gives you the guts to beckon him over with your index finger, that wolfishly suggestive smirk still stretching one corner of your lips.

 

Dean obeys your call, politely brushing the woman he's been talking to off before making his way over to you. He grabs at one of your hips once he's in close enough proximity, his free hand grabbing your beer and taking a hefty gulp. You two always play this game—the one where you end up going home with each other instead of a new batch of strangers like usual. It's a game you _both_ enjoy.

 

The tempo of the song playing has your hips moving against his in a slow drag, a giggle on your lips as he winks at you, encouraging you to keep going. He leans into you, his lips brushing yours before he moves them to your ear to ask "You sure do know how to use those hips, don't you?" 

 

"You already _know_ I do," you answer back, trapping the lobe of his ear between your teeth to tease him. "Didn't mean to steal you away from your _lady of the evening_ , but it's just—you're one of the only _two_ decent lookin' men in this place."

 

"Oh yeah? Well who's the other _one_?" He asks, a smirk evident in his voice, his strong hand splaying across your lower back to hold your body close to his.

 

You chuckle in a sexy way before saying " _Sammy_."

 

"Knew it," Dean teases in your ear, "You've wanted Sam for a while, haven't you, baby?"

 

"Yes," you answer, sighing as Dean lowers the hand on your back down to your ass, giving you a playful squeeze, obviously not possessing the ability to care if someone sees him do it. But someone _does_ and you can feel a new set of eyes on you that aren't Dean's. You search the area until your gaze lands on a pair darkened hazel eyes.

 

 _Sam_.

 

He, too, is now ignoring the woman he had initially hooked, a smirk on his lips as he watches you with Dean. You start to grow flustered, your cheeks tingeing pink from his attention, Dean's as well. "He wants you, too," Dean informs you, "I told him _all_ about the nasty things you've done for me; gave him every—single— _filthy_ little detail."

 

"You _didn't_ ," you gasp, a giggle passing your lips at the thought.

 

"Oh, I _did_ ," he assures you, "And Sammy told me he wants to see for himself _just_ how good you are."

 

You look up into Dean's eyes, noticing how darker they've become from your conversation. "So what then?" You probe him, your eyes locked on his as you follow it up with, "You guys want to have a threesome?" 

 

Dean smirks as his eyes widen. "Well, _shit_. I was thinkin' Sam could have you to himself tonight, but if a threesome's okay with you—I could _totally_ be up for that."

 

"Good," you reply, grabbing the front of his shirt in your hands and adding "Because I want both of you" before pulling him in for a hot, tongue-filled kiss.

 

You've done your fair share of freaky shit in your lifetime, and lot of your kinks would make even the most sexually-open-minded people blush. That being said, you're pretty sure that having a threesome with _brothers_ is one of the freakiest, kinkiest things you could _ever_ do. The taboo of it alone of made your lower belly run hot.

 

"Why don't you go see if Sammy's on board, hmm?" Dean smirks, pushing you in the direction that would lead you to Sam, giving you an encouraging swat on the ass that said _go get'im tiger._ You chuckle and shake your head, walking towards Sam with a certainty in your eyes and evident in your smile.

 

"Sorry," you say to the woman draped over his arm, "I _hate_ to intrude, but do you mind if I borrow my friend for _just_ a second?" You ask her, giving her a sweet smile. She nods, pulling away from Sam and watching as you tug him away with your hand in his. 

 

You knew _damn well_ you weren't bringing him back.

 

"Thought you'd never rescue me," Sam laughs, shuffling up behind you as you walk, pressing himself against your back.

 

"What? You _didn't_ want to sleep with her?" You chuckle.

 

"I did _at first_ , but then I realized _she's_ not the one I want tonight," he whispers in your ear, "I realized there's someone I want _more_ ; someone who I've heard _nothing_ but good things about."

 

"Oh," you smile, turning to face him with a playful glint sparkling in your eyes. "Does this someone have a name? Because they sound like an all-out _blast_."

 

"Don't play dumb with me," he grins wickedly, " _little girl_."

 

Oh _shit_. That was, without a doubt, the _sexiest_ thing Sam Winchester has _ever_ said. "Let's grab Dean and get the hell outta dodge," you tell him, your voice a little on the breathy side because these men have set out to fucking _ruin_ you.

 

Dean’s already gotten the hint, meeting the two of you at the exit with both yours and his jacket in hand, holding the the door open for Sam to push you through it with his hands tight on your hips. The force of his motions is making you buzz with excitement, a giggle bursting past your lips as the feeling builds in your chest and wraps around your ribs, moving to the places of your body that matter.

 

Sam rips open the passenger side door of the Impala, ushering you in to slide across the bench seat until you're in the middle of it, soon sandwiched between two large, strong bodies once the boys have climbed on either side. The ride back to the motel is quick due to Dean's lead foot, Sam's mouth hot and open against your neck the whole time as a hand slides up your denim-clad inner thigh, teasing you until you're begging Dean to just hurry the _fuck_ up.

 

Dean's mouth dominates yours as Sam fishes in his pockets for the room key, growling in annoyance when he fumbles trying to push the damn thing into the keyhole. Once he gets the door open, Dean practically manhandles you through it, a devilish smirk on his face and yours matching it as you listen to the click and lock of Sam shutting the door again, closing you off from the world outside.

 

The next few minutes are filled with quick flashes of discarded clothes passing by your eyes and two pairs of strong hands groping at your needy body. The three of you are bare-ass naked on the motel bed in no time flat, you between the boys on your back. Their lips lave your heated skin in frenzied open-mouth kisses, their hands sliding across your torso and thighs as you mewl and keen in response, flexing your hips and pushes up into their touches.

 

"Climb up on your knees, baby," Dean commands in your ear, "Suck Sammy off with that _dirty_ little mouth of yours while I'll take care of ya."

 

You obey, giving him a nod and a tiny moan before you pull yourself up on your knees, positioning yourself between Sam's legs as he lays stretched out on the bed. You bend at the waist, your hands splayed out across Sam's taut belly as you trail the flat of your tongue along the rigid underside of his throbbing cock, a smirk on your parted lips when he growls out in pleasure.

 

Just as you take the first few inches of Sam into your mouth, Dean buries his face in your soaked folds from behind, moaning into your flesh and making you cry out around Sam. Dean's strong, rough-skinned hands squeeze your backside cheeks, parting them as he drags his tongue up through your folds, across your silly-sensitive perineum and finally around your puckered back entrance, gently pushing at it with the tip. It's filthy and _perfect_.

 

When Dean finally pulls his slick mouth away from you minutes later, he pushes two fingers into your dripping cunt using one hand and a single thick, spit-soaked middle finger in your asshole using the other. "Oh _fuck_ ," you moan sharply after letting Sam fall out of your mouth, your hand coming up to stroke him with the same rhythm Dean's finger-fucking your fluttering holes with.

 

"You should have been here the last time we were together, Sam," Dean grins at his brother nonchalantly, "Y/N let me fuck her pretty little asshole so good, practically _begged_ me for it." Sam only chuckles darkly in response, propping himself up on his elbows as your back arches down into the mattress, giving him almost the perfect view of Dean adding a second finger to the one in your ass, his digits disappearing _deep_ inside you.

 

When you heard and _felt_ Dean spit at your tight hole to make the slide even slicker, you _keen_. It was so dirty and wrong. "More!" You moan, your heavy-lidded eyes meeting Sam's wickedly aroused ones as you plead with Dean. "I want _more_!" He complies, swiping at your swollen clit with his thumb as he curves a third finger inside your pussy, sliding over the spongy bundle of your gspot.

 

"Wanna see you come for Dean," Sam tells you as he sits up on the bed in front your all-fours position. He gently cups the underside of your chin with one hand to bring your head up so your eyes are locked on his, the other roaming down your sweat-damp chest to pinch at your budding nipples. "Wanna watch this little body of yours just drink up _all_ that pleasure he's giving you right now."

 

"Yes, yes, _yes_!" You cry, rocking your hips back into Dean's relentless hands as the familiar buzz of an oncoming orgasm pulses between them, the pressure like a string pulled taut. "I wanna come, wanna come so _bad_ ," you sob through your moans, eyes desperately trying to stay on Sam's.

 

"Go ahead, princess," Dean says gruffly behind you, twisting his fingers in your holes and pressing his thumb against your clit in _just_ that right way that your body grows rigidly tight with release, Sam's hand strong on your jaw to keep your head up so he can see the way your face morphs with it.

 

"Oh god, _please_ fuck me!" You cry, trembling as Dean slowly pulls his hands away from you completely. The boys both chuckle. Sam lays back down, catching the condom Dean throws his way before he drags you up his body so you're straddling his thighs. You watch with hunger-filled eyes and a panting mouth as Sam slides the latex down his impressive cock, your hands on his chest for support as your circle your hips above him impatiently.

 

"Start fuckin' her, Sammy," Dean chortles from somewhere behind you, the sound of a second condom being ripped open and lube-cap being popped filling your ringing ears. Sam does what Dean says, grabbing your hips to pull you up over his cock. You whimper as Sam shoves a hand between the two of you, positioning the head of himself at your weeping pussy, nestling it between your swollen lips. You slide down onto him without further hesitation, that first stretch of him buried inside you making you cry out pathetically, your hips bucking at the feeling.

 

Sam's just set up a good rhythm of pounding up into you when the bed springs squeak out with a third presence. "Is this what you've been waiting for, sweetheart?" Dean's voice suddenly sounds in your ear, his chest pressed against your back. "Have you been waiting for Sam's cock to be inside you? You've been thinkin' about for a while now, haven't ya, baby?"

 

"God yes!" You gasp.

 

"How's it feel?" He questions further, sliding his hands down the front of your body, his hands stopping above where Sam's are strong on your hips, both of them pushing you down onto Sam fully.

 

" _So_ good, Dean!"

 

"How about I slide up in your ass? Give you the _full_ Winchester experience," he husks with a sexy little laugh. You nod rapidly in response. "I can't hear you," Dean taunts, sliding a feather-light finger over your clit as Sam pounds up into you at the same time, sending you into overdrive.

 

"Yes! _Fuck yes_ , Dean! I _want_ it; I want it _bad_ , baby. Please! Want both of you inside me, _God_ , I _need_ it!" You're a sobbing mess by this point, begging like a bitch in heat.

 

"Okay, baby, just—just slow your hips down for me for a sec," Dean commands in a gentle voice, sliding at hand down your back to guide your forward over Sam's quickly stilling body. "Gotta breathe for me," he tells you, "Just gotta get yourself relaxed."

 

You breathe in deeply through your nose, heavily exhaling from your mouth with Sam's hands cupping your face, his lips giving you gentle kisses all over it as you prepare yourself for Dean. You whimper when you feel the lube-slick tip of Dean's latex-covered cock nudge against your fluttering asshole, your knees tightening against Sam's sides as Dean slowly pushes himself inside you inch-by-hot-inch until he's balls-deep. It's a tighter fit than usual due to Sam being buried in your throbbing cunt this time around.

 

"God almighty"  "Holy _shit_ "  "Fuckin' _fuck_ "

 

All three of you remain still for a few moments, adjusting to all the sensations buzzing between your bodies. For you, it's your first time taking two cocks at the same time— _Winchester cocks_ at that. You felt so unbelievably _full_. Their hands were all over you, running over your trembling body to soothe you until you begged them to move.

 

Dean pulls out first, sliding back into you with a punched-out groan. Sam slid out once Dean pushed back in, shoving himself back into you quickly. They both moan deliciously, finding a rhythm that had you _eerily_ quiet, your mouth open but not expelling sound and your eyes slammed shut as you focused on the feeling of both the brothers filling your holes. You don't even realize you're holding your breath until Sam whispers " _Breathe, baby girl_ " with a gentle hand wrapping around the back of your neck, blunt fingernails scratching at your hairline.

 

You open your eyes just enough to look into his, a chocked out sob passing your lips as they continued to rock into you. It was like a-whole-nother world was surrounding you. It was downright _magical_.

 

"Please, please, please, please," you whimper under your breath repeatedly, undulating your hips between their bodies without a second's thought. You card your fingers through Sam's tousled hair, collapsing into his chest with your face buried in his slick neck as you moan and cry and sob in pleasure. You can feel Dean lean down over your back, his mouth open and panting against the dip between your shoulder blades.

 

You're absolutely _sandwiched_ between their big, strong, _powerful_ bodies as their hips quicken and gain speed. You're shaking like a leaf against them, begging and pleading without control and _barely_ forming coherent sentences, _Dean_ and _Sam_ being the only recognizable words. You can feel that familiar feeling, but this time, it's coming tenfold, like a bomb just ticking away between your hips, ready to detonate at any given moment.

 

"Come for us," Sam moans into your ear, pushing up into you sharply.

 

"Yeah, come for us, sweetheart," Dean echoes breathlessly against the slick skin of your back, pushing a hand between your body and Sam's to get a two rough fingers on your sensitive clit. You pull your head away from Sam's neck, tossing it back against Dean's shoulder as you cry out, his free hand coming up to slap over your mouth because he knows all too well just how loud you're _really_ about to get—the motel walls are just _too_ thin for him not to muffle your sounds.

 

You scream and whine against his palm, your eyes crossing from the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. You're coming harder than you ever have before, your hands flat on the mattress beside Sam's head as you gyrate your hips uncontrollably between them. It feels a millennia before you're able to fall back to earth, Dean's hand slowly slipping away from your mouth as your sound-barrier-breaking sounds turn into nothing but whimpers and soft moans. 

 

You encourage them both to come, keening their names and begging for it with a fucked-out voice so small, it's barely audible. Dean comes first, his hips slowing as he rides out his high with shallow thrusts inside your ass, his name on your lips as he clings to your body. Sam follows a few seconds later, pulling you in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as he moans over and over again into your mouth, hips jerking as he fills the condom.

 

You're all heavy pants and leaning on each other as you calm down, all sighing and humming contently with postcoital bliss. Dean trails hot little kisses across the top of your back as you lay against Sam's chest, his hands running up and down your sides slowly. You twirl a damp piece of Sam's hair between your fingers, smiling as he kisses the along the bridge of your nose.

 

"I gotta pull out," Dean chuckles, Sam agreeing with a grunt.

 

"No," you pout immediately, "Just wanna feel the two of you a little bit longer."

 

"Okay," Dean sighs, resting his stubbly cheek against your back as he smiles and lets his eyes fall shut. "But only for a _few_ more minutes—my dick's absolutely dead right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless.


	6. Sam; It Might Surprise You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You end up talking Sam in participating in a little ass-play . . . him on the receiving end this time.
> 
> (Lmao my vagina got a hold of the keyboard and created this long ass description of you playing with Sam's butt. I give up trying to make these shorts/drabbles jfc)

"Please, please, _please_!" You beg Sam from the backseat of the Impala with a pout on your lips, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind where he's sitting in the front passenger side. "Come _on_ , Sam. It could be fun . . . for the both of us."

 

"I've already so no at least twenty times," Sam replies sternly (or at least attempts to), trying to steady his breathing as you place soft kisses up the side of his neck until you reach his ear. He's keeping a look out for Dean, who is bound to come traipsing out the convenient store you're parked in front of at any minute.

 

"Why? Scared you might _like_ it?" You tease him, trapping the soft lobe between your teeth and pulling at it playfully. "You always wanna do it _me_ , so why not try it for yourself?"

 

"I'm not _scared_ , I've just—I've never had fingers . . . _up there_ before," he answers, "And it's different when I do it to you; you _know_ you like it."

 

You scoff, "Well how do you know you don't like it if you've never tried it before?" You trail a light hand down the front of his body slowly, teasing him. "And how's it different? Because I'm a _girl_ and you're a _guy_ , and there's some unspoken _man rule_ that you're not supposed to have a finger up your _butt_?"

 

" _Baaabe_ ," Sam groans in agitation-slash-arousal, slightly arching up into your hand.

 

"I wanna give you everything, Sam," you whisper seductively in his ear. "I wanna experience everything with you, baby." You smirk as his breathing goes shallow and his eyes flutter shut at your words. "I bet a million dollars you'll like it, me finger-fucking you while I swallow down that _gorgeous_ cock of yours. I bet you'd come so hard for me, and I'd swallow _every drop_ you give me, Sam."

 

"Y/N," he breathes out, turning his head to capture your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you swallow his tiny moans. He pulls back after a few seconds with a set of puppy dog eyes and asks "You _promise_ you'll be gentle, and go slow for me? And—And stop if I don't like it?"

 

"Of course, baby," you assure him genuinely with a sweet smile on your lips. "I promise."

 

"Okay," he whispers with a short nod, pecking your lips tenderly before adding "We can _try_ it."

 

Dean climbs into the car not even a second later. "Get a room," he taunts you both jokingly, starting up the engine and pulling out of the parking lot, kicking up dust as he goes.

 

"We plan on it," you quip back at him as you release Sam and recline back in your seat, receiving a breathy chuckle from Sam and a grimace from Dean.

 

Once you arrive at some dingy, outdated motel, you and Sam pay for a separate room with a double bed. You both roll your eyes and smile as Dean grumbles _damn sickos_ under his breath before retreating the opposite way of you and Sam towards his room. Sam shuts and locks the door behind the two of you after you enter your room, a nervous expression on his face as he sheds his jacket and lays it over the back of a chair. 

 

"We don't have to do this right now, Sam," you tell him in a gentle voice, standing in front of his tall form and intertwining your hands, giving his a soft squeeze. "We can wait until you've thought a little more about it, I _don't_ want to force you into anything."

 

"You're _not_ ," he smiles down at you reassuringly, "I—I want to, I'm just—I'm just a little anxious, I guess."

 

"Okay," you nod understandingly. "That's okay, Sam. It's alright that you're anxious, but I promise I'll ease you into it little-by-little, and watch your body language the entire time. Promise I won't go shovin' my whole fist up there the first go," you laugh, trying to ease his rigid mood.

 

"Shut _up_ ," he chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement, relaxing just a fraction as he grabs your hips and pulls you in for a slow, heartbeat-skipping kiss.

 

"Wanna take a shower to get help you loosen up a bit?" You asks after he pulls away. He nods with an appreciative smile, releasing you from his hold so you can both grab your respective toiletry bags from your duffles. You disappear with him into the bathroom, stripping down and stepping into the steamy heat of the shower. You don't grope at each other during it, just help one another wash up and exchange sweet kisses every so often.

 

You get out before the water has a chance to go cold, wrapping yourself in towels and moving back into the main room. Sam sits down at the foot of the bed, relaxing back on his hands as he watches you move around the room, toweling drying your wet hair until it's only slightly damp before throwing it up into a messy bun and pulling on a pair of white cotton panties with a lace waistband wrapping around your hips. When you finally look over at Sam, you notice he's more relaxed than before but still looking just a bit nervous.

 

You smile sweetly as you walk up to him, standing between his legs as you cradle his face in your hands, dropping a light kiss on his puffy lips, already _so_ kissed-out. "Wanna make-out for a while until you're ready?" You ask him, running a hand through his damp hair, stopping when you're able to wrap your hand around the back of his neck and scratch at his scalp lightly.

 

"Yeah," he whispers, pulling you against his body with his large hands on your hips and spinning you off your feet and onto the bed effortlessly, laying on his side beside you propped up on an elbow. You smile up at him, trailing a soft hand down his shoulder as he leans down to press his mouth against yours. Sweet pecks soon turn into parted lips and adventurous twirling tongues, gentle touches evolving into frisky gropes and tight grabs.

 

You gasp into his mouth when he gives one of your naked breasts a firm squeeze, his strong tongue dominating yours without even having to try. You make quick work of pulling the towel still wrapped around his waist away, palming his hard flesh before wrapping your hand around the thick shaft, swallowing Sam's breathy little moans like they were honey. "I think I'm ready," he husks against your lips, moving his down your neck as you stroke his cock in slow drags.

 

"You're sure?" You ask in a breathy voice, thumbing over his precome-slick tip.

 

"Mhmm," he nods, moaning through a closed mouth.

 

You settle him onto his back, dropping sweet kisses all over his chest and stomach before leaving the bed long enough to retrieve the bottle of lube you keep in the front pocket of your duffle. Sam gets the hint and pulls himself down to the foot of the bed with his feet flat on the ground and his firm ass slightly hanging over the edge, his strong thighs spread wide as you fall to your knees between them.

 

"You're _absolutely sure_ you want to do this?" You ask him again in a light voice, just wanting to be absolutely sure before you even touch him in the _slightest_.

 

"Yes," he answers verbally and nods his head as well for good measure, relaxing back onto the mattress and letting his eyes fall shut. "Just—Just tell me everything you do before you do it. Just so we're on the same page, okay?"

 

"Yes, Sam," you whisper, trailing kisses up each of his legs and across his lower belly with light lips. You listen to his breathing grow deeper and closer together, and watch the way his chest rises and falls as he sighs heavily. "Just gonna get a finger lubed up, okay?" You ask him, waiting for him to reply with a breathy _okay_ before popping the cap of the lube bottle and slicking up an index finger. You don't slide between his cheeks just yet, just shower the underside of his pulsing cock that's laying against his stomach with gentle kisses and little kitten-licks

 

"I'm not gonna push in just yet, just gonna rub you a little bit with the tip of my finger," you tell him as you wrap the hand free of lube around the base of his cock, asking "does that sound okay, Sam?"

 

" _Yes_ ," he moans, the muscle of his stomach clenching and releasing as you stroke him slowly. You moan yourself, gently, and with a _very_ cautious speed, sliding your slick finger between his cheeks, finding the furled little hole hidden between them and rolling the tip of your finger around it as gentle as possible. You watch Sam's body and face for his reaction; his eyes are closed and his lips are parted as he lays silent, his brows furrowed in concentration.

 

"Does this feel okay, Sam?"

 

"Ye—Yeah," he breathes out immediately, "Just feels—It feels . . . _different_ . . . kinda good."

 

"Okay, baby," you smile, giving him a twirl that's just a smidgen faster. "Tell me when you're ready for me to start pushing my finger inside you." You watch him nod before lowering your head to drag the flat of your tongue up his cock, trailing the tip of it along the prominent vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. You apply just the tiniest amount of pressure against his hole as possible with the pad of your index finger, not pushing into him but preparing him for when you do.

 

"Oh—Oh fuck, baby," he whimpers out to you, tossing his head back into the mattress as he throws his arms out to his sides. You moan and wrapped your lips around the head of him, sucking at it with tight lips and twirling your tongue around the tip of him, humming at the taste of his precome coating it. "I'm ready," he whispers, bringing his head up to look you in the eyes as he adds "I want more, baby . . . please."

 

You release his cock panting, immediately wrapping your free hand around him as you nod and very gently push just the tip your finger inside his tight hole, groaning as you feel the ring of muscle clench around it. Sam shakily begs for more, rolling his hips just a little bit as you slowly, slowly, _very_ _slowly_ push your index finger all the way up inside him. "How's that feel, Sam?" You ask, continuing to stroke his cock as you keep your finger inside him still.

 

" _So_ good," he gasps, "Just—"

 

"Different?" You smile lovingly, kissing the tip of his cockhead and swiping at it with your tongue.

 

" _Yes_ ," he breathes, letting his head fall back onto the mattress again as he releases breathy little moans and pants. " _Please_ suck my cock, baby, wanna feel your mouth," he tells you, whimpering and biting at his bottom lip.

 

"Whatever my baby boy wants," you whisper, swallowing him down in one go, finding a steady up-and-down bob that has him _keening_ for you. You've never heard him so desperate-sounding and _breathy_ before, the thought that _you're_ the one making him make these kind of sounds has you moaning around him as you suck him in the way you know he likes.

 

"God! Please move your finger, baby, wanna feel you move inside me while you suck me off," he whimpers, the motel bedcover trapped in his fists as his body shakes with the pleasure you're giving him. You hum around him deeply and give him what he wants, slowly pulling your finger out to the tip and gently pushing it back up inside him. 

 

Sam's breathing falls deep and labored from his open mouth, his head coming up to watch you suck his cock like you've done so many times before. "Fuck, I need _more_ ," he groans huskily after a while.

 

"More what, Sam?" You ask through your panting after pulling your mouth off his throbbing dick, speeding up the finger you've got inside him.

 

"I—I want—Oh _fuck_ , I want another finger, baby," he chokes out, rolling his hips, pushing his ass down towards your hand.

 

"Are you sure, baby?" You ask him, so beyond turned on that you're willing to give him _whatever_ he wants, _however_ he wants it.

 

"Yes. I _want_ it, Y/N, wanna feel you two-fingers-deep inside my ass," he tells you; and in that moment, you had wished you had a cock, because the thought of _actually_ fucking Sam made your panties grow embarrassingly damp with arousal. Maybe you'd talk him into buying a strap-on later on down the road, because pegging was starting to climb up in the ranks on your kink list just watching and _hearing_ him beg for something in his _glorious_ ass—but you focus back on the task at hand, giving him an approving moan and reaching for the lube you'd placed on the bad beside him.

 

You pull out your index finger long enough to slick up it up again, along with your middle finger beside it, priding yourself on the way Sam whines at the loss of you inside him. Now you understood the way he felt when he was toying with your holes, a deep smirk of satisfaction stretching across your lips.

 

"Don't look so _pleased_ with yourself," he chuckles deeply where he's propped up his elbows looking down at you, biting on his bottom lip as he rolls his hips, trying to entice you with the way his body nonverbally begs for your fingers.

 

"It's just a nice change in our routine, is all; you begging for _me_ instead of the other way around," you husk, gripping his cock with your free hand once again and giving it a few teasing strokes, gently pushing your fingers back between his cheeks and swirling them around his slick hole. "You look so _good_ like this, Sam, my fingers playing with your _tight_ little asshole and you just _begging_ for me to fuck you with them and to suck your beautiful cock at the same time."

 

"Baby," he moans, rolling his neck and looking at you with heavily-lidded eyes as he impatiently waits for you to start pushing your fingers into him. You do a few tantalizing seconds later, even more slow and cautious since it's _two_ instead of one this time. His hole stretches around them with just a _tiny_ bit of resistance, sucking them in once they're halfway inside him. "Oh my _fuck_."

 

"Are you okay?" You ask him, genuine concern in your voice as you examine the way his face contorts with an unreadable expression. "Do you want me to—"

 

"Fuck no! _Don't_ stop, please don't pull them out," he says quickly, his mouth falling open as he gasps and pants and fucking _whimpers_ for you. Your mouth falls open as well; he's so warm and tight around your fingers, his hole stretched around them and fluttering every now and again as you keep them still for a few minutes, just so Sam can catch his breath. "Want your mouth again, baby," he growls deep in his chest, experimentally rocking down onto your fingers as he fists at the scratchy comforter under him.

 

You nod, swallowing back an embarrassingly loud moan before descending back down his cock, sliding him into your mouth and immediately finding a quick, tight-lipped speed. You pull and push your fingers in and out of him, twirling and curving as you seek out his prostate. You're fingers are pushed all the way up inside him when you finally feel the firm little bump against the pads of your fingers, gently pressing them into it. You apply just the slightest amount of pressure as you swallow Sam all the way down, your nose tickled by the patch of hair at the base of his cock.

 

"Jesus—fucking— _Christ_!" Sam swears in vain, collapsing back onto the bed as sobs of pleasure rock his powerful body. "I'm gonna fuckin' _come_ , baby," he tells you in a rough, throaty voice, "Goddammit, _please_ don't stop! Gonna fill your pretty little mouth up with my load, gonna—Oh _my_ fuck—I'm—I'm gonna . . .”

 

You glide your lips up and down his shaft, turning your head and moaning around him as you continue to fuck his ass with a steady speed. You trail your free hand up his chest, sighing around his shaft when he wraps his hand around it immediately. He grits his teeth and grinds out _fuckfuckfuckfuck_ under his breath as he pushes his hips down onto your hand, fucking himself on your fingers as he comes in your mouth, his eyes deliriously watching you hallow out your cheeks and give him a few hard sucks, humming appreciatively as you _happily_ swallow his load down.

 

You bring your fingers to a slow stop inside him as he falls boneless back on the bed, tenderly pulling them out as you release his sensitive cock with a slick _pop!_ You wipe your lube-slick fingers on the comforter beside Sam, laughing at how fucking _indecent_ it is. You don't really care though; you're only concerned with climbing over Sam's trembling, worn out body and kissing him sweetly all over the face with gentle lips. You damn near feel like bursting into tears when he whispers _thank you_ a few times in a small voice, his eyes looking up into yours as pure genuine appreciation swims deep inside the honey-and-green color of them.

 

You kiss his lips, running your fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp comfortingly. You gasp out in absolute _shock_ when he uses some unknown reserve of energy to quickly flip you onto your back and nearly tear your drenched panties to shreds as he rips them down your legs.

 

Sam Winchester's never eaten you out with the vigor he uses that day. And—of _course_ —you fist his hair the whole time and praise him for being _such_ a _good_ boy for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fans self while scolding self for being a pervert*


	7. Sam; My Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the end of "It Might Surprise You" (Chapter 6) had me feelin' _some_ type of way and this was the result.
> 
> I give you "My Good Boy" (Does this _really_ need a preface?)

"God, Sam," you sigh, "I _love_ that pretty little mouth of yours."

 

Sam hums against your sopping cunt, the flat of his tongue sliding up and down your swollen clit in the most delicious way. You fist a hand into his soft hair and look down to watch him work, propped back on your free hand with your gorgeous Sam kneeling between your spread thighs. His large hands cup your ass where it hangs off the edge of the bed you're perched upon, giving you small squeezes every now and again. The tips of your toes are pressed down against the floor, your soles arched, so if need be—you could grind yourself down on Sam's face.

 

But you're content for now; reveling in the way he drags his tongue through your folds in a sluggish manner, and how he points it to twirl the very tip of it around your throbbing little bundle of nerves to switch it up.

 

"You're such a _good boy_ for me, Sam," you praise him, relinquishing his hair from your clenched fist and combing through it affectionately instead, massaging his scalp with your fingertips to soothe the ache you might have left behind. "Are you my good boy, Sam?"

 

His eyes slowly open up to meet yours as he pulls away from your weeping centre long enough to say "Yes, _Mistress_. I'm your good boy."

 

You feel a dirty thrill serge up the length of your spine at the thought that you have a man nearly _double_ your size—a certified _man giant_ —calling you _Mistress_. Such a _good boy,_ he was. Whenever you played this role, you both got _super_ into it. Much like whenever he wanted you to be his _sweet_ little submissive _good girl_ while you called him _Sir_ , _Daddy_ , or sometimes even _Master—_ although, when you _did_ call Sam _Master_ for the first time, you had made sure before the fact that he knew you didn't want to be ever be referred to as _slave_. You didn't want to dive into the whole M/s world, you just liked the way _Master_ sounded rolling off your tongue on a whim every now and then whenever Sam fucked you _silly_.

 

"Does my good boy want his Mistress to come on his _dirty_ little tongue?" You ask him, trying to keep your voice firm and clear, but nearly failing due to the way Sam's sliding his strong tongue inside you. "Do you want me— _oh fuck_ —to grind myself down against your _gorgeous_ face, Sam? Would my good boy _like that_?"

 

" _Yes_ , Mistress. I would _love_ it," he pants when he pulls back away from you again to answer, immediately leaning in again to continue fucking you open with his skillful, downright _sinful_ tongue.

 

" _That's_ my good boy," you praise him in a low purr, moving your body in a bit towards his mouth and placing a hand on the back of his head, balancing forward on your toes with your other hand grasping the edge of the bed your hanging over. You gasp when his nose ends up pushed flush against your clit while he's still tongue-deep in your slick cunt, dragging it in and out in the most sensuous way. You build up a slow grind against his face, fucking yourself down onto his quickening tongue and rubbing your clit up along the slope of his nose. You can feel him breathing out heavily against you through his nose, the heat if it settling into your tender flesh.  

 

"Oh _yes_ , Sam," you pant, letting your head fall back as you use his face for your own selfish, _greedy_ purposes—which Sam clearly has no problem with since he's _humming_ and _moaning_ against you in response. You nearly lose it when he starts moving his head side-to-side, sliding across you while you slide down against him. "Fuck, Sam, you're gonna make come!" You gasp, bringing your head back forward and looking down at the show between your thighs, your lips parted as you moan for your good boy. "Gonna come all over that _good_ little tongue of yours, gonna fill that _pretty mouth_ of yours up with me."

 

You're coming a few seconds later, that simmering deep in your belly boiling over and onto Sam's _beautiful_ face. You praise and cry out for him, mewling and whimpering his name as you ride your high out, shaking and fisting at his hair as you let the pleasure take you under. Sam eventually pulls away when you release a particularly broken sound and when your hips jerk on their own accord from how sensitive he's made you.

 

"Thank you, _Mistress_ ," he husks, sitting up on his knees with his back fully erect, his arms encircling your waist to pull you up against his chest.

 

"You're welcome, my _good_ little Sam," you smile in a daze as you wrap your legs around his waist and grab at his broad shoulders, examining through heavily-lidded eyes the way his lips and chin glisten with the evidence of your release—the one you're _still_ throbbing all over from.

 

Sam smirks then, his eyes darkening almost ominously as he looks at you like he’s a cat who's caught a _helpless_ little mouse. "Are you ready to be my _good girl_ and clean me up?"

 

" _Yes, Sir_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is dead*


	8. Dean; Just Another Helpin' Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're wide awake and itchin' for sleep. What better way to tire yourself out then get yourself off, amirite? Let's just say your bed partner ends up playing a special role. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, the word 'cock' is used about a million and one times, use of endearing pet names (hello, this is about Dean after all), did I say rough sex already??, basically the whole shebang

You roll your eyes as Dean snores away obnoxiously beside you, turned over on his side with his back to you, having unconsciously but _selfishly_ squirreled away all the blankets on the bed, leaving you with nothing to cover yourself up with but the oversized sweatshirt you'd stolen from Sam's duffle a few weeks ago without asking—because Sam didn't really mind. You stare up at the gross popcorn ceiling of the two-star motel room in the darkness, your arms crossed over your chest as you lay restless and slightly annoyed. Annoyed by the fact that Dean was catching zees while you were wide awake for reasons unknown to you.

 

A thought crosses your mind, and you can’t help but smother a laugh. Were you _really_ going to go _that_ far to tire yourself out? Surely _not_ , not with Dean sleeping peacefully beside you and Sam bound to be back any minute from their bar he'd snuck off to a couple of hours ago—since he had been as wide awake as you. _No_. You couldn't _possibly_ be thinking of doing it.

 

 _Fuck it_ , you think with a shrug, relaxing back into the bed and closing your eyes as you take a deep breath, letting one of your hands travel down your body until it's creeping into your panties. You turn your head to look at Dean's back, noticing it's still moving steadily and he's still storing like a freight train. You close your eyes again and turn your head to the opposite side of your pillow, biting your bottom lip as you tease your folds with light fingertips. _God, that feels good._ You don't tease yourself for long because you don't have the patience or the time, figuring that getting off sooner rather than later lessens your chances of getting caught.

 

You bite back a moan as you quickly twirl two fingers around your throbbing clit, skillfully restricting your movement by flexing only the knuckles of the fingers you're using, which isn't ideal but it gets the job done soon enough. Your toes curl into the mattress and you damn near split your bottom lip trying hold back the sea of sounds that threaten to tumble past your lips, falling over the edge as silently and as still as you can manage so you don't disturb the sleeping Winchester beside you. Who, come to think, isn't snoring any—

 

"What are you doing?" 

 

"Fuck!" You screech, completely taken by surprise when you hear that deep groggy voice all of a sudden, quickly pulling your hand out of your panties like a scalded hound. "Jesus _Christ_ , Dean," you breathe out in a hiss, "You scared the shit of out of me!"

 

"You didn't answer my question," Dean states, a shit-eating grin on his face as he props himself up on one elbow where he's now turned to face you. You look over at him for only a second, scoffing and rolling your eyes as you fold your arms over your chest, a dark red blush filling your cheeks.

 

"I couldn't sleep," you say simply, like that would be a good enough answer for Dean friggin' Winchester, master of all things sex related.

 

"That ain't the answer I'm lookin' for, sweetheart," he smirks.

 

"Fine!" You shout as you throw your hands up in the air in defeat, "I couldn't sleep so I was masturbating! Are you _happy_ now, _Dean_? Does me admitting to you that I got caught playing with myself make you _happy_?" You're so on edge right now, your orgasm just moments before only serving to make you undeniably horny and _incredibly_ frustrated, when you should be embarrassed and mortified that Dean caught you in the act—you're not though for some strange reason.

 

"You coulda woke me, ya know," he tells you, his voice dropping an octave and growing more rumble-like when he adds, "I wouldn't have minded givin' you an extra hand or two."

 

"Oh _god_ ," you groan dramatically, rolling onto your side with your back to him, covering your face with your hands. 

 

"Come on, princess," he husks, sliding up behind you so the front of his body is pressed up against the back of yours. You desperately try to ignore the way your skin tingles in response to his delicious heat and the way his strong, powerful body feels against yours. "If you need help gettin' tired, I know just the thing to do the trick," he whispers in your ear, wrapping an arm around you and pulling your hands away from your face. "We could both use the release," he sweetens the pot, trailing his hand down your side until it's sliding across your lower belly and down to squeeze between your thighs, that you're currently pressing together to get some kind of friction since Dean's words are _doing_ things to you.

 

You gasp brokenly and rock your ass back into his crotch when he rubs you through your panties after successfully parting your thighs, his deft fingers pressing against your throbbing clit and sliding along your swelling lips. "You don't have to be quiet this time," he teases in your ear when he notices you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, desperately trying to hold back your moans, "I wanna hear every pretty little sound that leaves your mouth."

 

You let out a needy whimper in response, wordlessly begging him for more because _fuck_ , it's been too damn long since anyone but yourself has pleased your body, and you've seen Dean Winchester shoot a gun and wield a knife countless times, so there's not a doubt in your mind that he knows how to use his hands. "More," you finally say in a pathetic whisper, growing restless with Dean's teasing, because you need more and you need it _now_.

 

Dean scoots back far enough for you to roll over onto your back beside him as he slides a hand into your panties, his calloused, rough-skinned fingertips colliding with the most intimate and tender flesh on your body. Your back arches up at the feeling and your hips flex uncontrollably and your legs fall open wide, tiny moans and gasps falling from your lips on their own accord. "Take off your top," you hear Dean command, and your hands instantly move to tear off the borrowed sweatshirt, leaving your upper body completely exposed for Dean to feast his eyes upon. "Fuck, you're so hot," he breathes out in a ragged whisper, sliding a finger through your slick folds and teasing your hole in a cruel way.

 

"God, Dean," you gasp as you buck your hips, "Give it to me." 

 

"Say please," Dean smirks, the moonlight coming in through the window casting a blue tinge to the darkened room and making him look more predator-like than usual, leaving you the willing prey as you look up into his lust-blown eyes.

 

"Please, Dean," you whimper, completely at his mercy when he barely pushes a thick fingertip inside you to tease you even more than he already had been. "Fuck me with your fingers, Dean, _please_ ," you beg, shamelessly wanton when you say, "I need it so _bad_."

 

Dean's smirk darkens and he rewards your begging by sliding two fingers right up inside your silly-wet cunt, all the way to the knuckles as far as they'll go. You hear him chuckle over your pornstar-like moans and gasps, but you're too far gone to scold him, or even _care_. "You're so wet right now," he murmurs against your flushed cheek, tickling your skin when he breathes out a deep growl. "Is this what you wanted?" He asks, pulling his fingers out and thrusting them back in quickly, curling them up in search for your gspot—which he finds almost immediately. "Is this what you were picturin' when you're were pleasin' this sexy little body of yours? Someone finger-fuckin' your sweet little pussy?"

 

 _In the name of all that is holy_ , you think, _this man is trying to kill me_. "No, Dean," you answer honestly, out of breath and rocking your hips.

 

"No?" He grins, pumping his fingers a little quicker while he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and watching you shake your head _no_ as you writhe against the bed. "Then what were you thinkin' about, sweetheart?"

 

"I was— _gasp!_ —I was thinking about someone—oh _fuck—_ someone fucking me good and hard, Dean," you manage out through your moans.

 

"Good and hard, huh?" He clicks his tongue.

 

"Yes!"

 

You don't have time to think as Dean's pulls his hand out of your panties and roughly flips you over onto your stomach, his hands sliding down your back until he's ripping your panties down to your knees. You pant and whine, pulling your hips up so your ass is hiked up the air while Dean tears off his clothes, the bed springs screaming out as he moves somewhere on the bed behind you.

 

"Fuck me, Dean," you declare, visibly shivering when you feel his warmth come over you, his now naked skin gliding along yours in the most intoxicating way—as if you _weren't_ already drunk off the man. "Need you to fuck me, mark me up, _something_ ," you whine pathetically, rocking up into him, his heavy, rock-hard cock slipping between your asscheeks. Dean growls in response, rutting against you and releasing the most gorgeous sounds you've ever heard from a man before.

 

"I ain't gonna be gentle, princess," he tells you in a deep rumble, almost as if he's trying to warn you and give you a chance to back out. 

 

Pfft, as _if_.

 

"I don't want you to be, Dean," you reply in a raspy, desire-drunk voice, "I wanna be fucked _hard_."

 

"Damn," he chuckles into the dip between your shoulder blades, "Where've you been all my life?"

 

"Laying in the bed next to you playing with myself," you answer in a sexy little laugh. "Now chop, chop, there's a matter of you fucking me good and hard to tend to."

 

"You sure are bossy for a girl who was whimperin' and beggin' a few minutes ago," he breathes out against your skin, the warmth of it causing your skin to pucker with goosebumps. 

 

"Yeah well, I'm impatient, too."

 

"Don't I know it," Dean husks amusedly, knocking the very breath from your lungs when he roughly shoves his thick cock inside you. He immediately finds a hard, punishing, toe-curling pace that has you crying out unabashedly and damn near tearing the sheets to shreds where you've got them held captive in your fists. Dean braces his forearms on either side of your head as he drives his hips down against your ass, the most satisfying slapping sounding ringing out as a result, making you grow warm all over as you lay pliant and willing beneath Dean and his powerful body. 

 

He's huge all over, and where it matters most. If anyone ever doubted the caliber of Dean's cock, they've obviously never had it inside them before. And right now, you have no doubt that he's the biggest you've ever had, thick and long and stretching you in ways no man ever had before. There's a sweet little burn every time he buries himself balls deep inside you, and the slick sound of him making you slippery between your thighs. It's almost silly how wet you are right now, how much you're dribbling and drooling around Dean's highly impressive cock as he pounds you down into the mattress.

 

This is definitely not how you had imagined the night going. You thought you'd get yourself off once or twice and get some sleep. Boy, were you wrong.

 

"Fuck!" Dean roars in pure bliss. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby," he tells you, moaning beautifully, "Your sweet little pussy keeps pullin' me right back in every time I pull out, such a _good_ little pussy."

 

You blush at his words, almost ironically since you're _way_ past the blushing stage with Dean right now. "You feel so good inside me," you whimper, pushing your hands up into his where his arms are still braced next to your head, threading your fingers with his and holding on tight. "You fuck me so _good_ , Dean," you gasp, "God, it's so good!"

 

The force of Dean's thrusts has the wobbly headboard knocking against the wall of the motel room, the sound harsh and loud. You're both just a pool of animalistic craving, a filthy, dark thirst that can only be quenched by hard, rough, uninhibited sex that you'll be feeling for the next few days in the form of sore muscles and bruises. It's what you needed; a good, hard fuck, and a man willing to do it without shame or worriment. Dean was thorough, reducing you to a sobbing, moaning, cock-crazed puddle of yourself on the bed beneath him, giving yourself over to whatever he was willing to give.

 

"I want you to come for me," he husks darkly in your ear, roughly wedging a hand between you and the mattress, expertly finding your throbbing clit and giving it tight, harsh rubs with two of his thick, rough-skinned fingers. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

 

"God, yes!" You gasp, rocking your ass back just as Dean thrusts forward again, your body shaking and trembling as the hot, burning pressure builds between your hips. 

 

"Then do it," Dean growls in your ear, fingering your clit and fucking you harder, sending you over the edge in no time. He listens to your screams, hears you beg him not to stop, feels you flutter and contract around him as you come hard for him, and it's not long before he feels that tingle at the base of his spine, the wave of warmth that covers him in a thin, sticky sheen of sweat as he pounds into you, growing sloppier and less careful with every downward thrust.

 

You listen to Dean's every sound, feel his slick skin slide against yours, hear him panting and gasping as his rhythm slips up. You cry out brokenly when you feel his teeth sink into one of your shoulders blades, almost positive that he's broken the skin or, at the _very_ least, left a nasty mark. He gives you three more hard, _merciless_ thrusts before he goes completely still, buried all the way inside you and filling you up with a unique warmth. You sigh, completely content when he falls down boneless against you, his weight heavy but completely comforting on top of you, his arms and legs a tangled mess with yours. You hum tiredly as he covers your back, neck, and shoulders in sweet, lazy kisses. And neither one of you bother or care to move when the motel room door suddenly swings open.

 

"Oh fuck!" A drunk Sam shouts. "My . . . my bad!" He giggles dumbly, turning his back to the two of you and walking backwards until he's able to fall into the unoccupied bed next to yours. "I'mma jus' go’ta sleep, don' let me ruin the mood," he slurs, carelessly kicking off his shoes and pulling the blankets over himself, "Night, night!"

 

You chuckle under Dean, wiggling under his weight and shoving him off. "Night, Sam," you say, rolling over onto your back and looking up at Dean where's he's precariously hovering over you on his side. "Night, Dean," you whisper to him, pulling yourself up onto your elbows and giving him a slow, sweet, entirely chaste kiss on his puffy, slightly-chapped lips.

 

"Night, sweetheart," he echoes once you've pulled back, grinning when you turn over onto your side with your back to him. He doesn't think twice before pulling you back against his chest in the spooning position with one strong arm wrapped around your waist, quickly throwing the sheets and blankets over your naked, intertwined bodies.

 

In the morning, when all three of you are fresh-faced and drinking coffee, no one mentions the night before. You all just talk about possible cases and laugh at each other's stupid jokes, acting as if last night never even happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao this is pure filth . . . you're welcome ;)


	9. Sam; Right Here Waiting For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jesus. Y'all are about to hate me for the feels I'm about to give you. This bloomed into so much more than just smut. This got _really_ plotty and _really_ long _real_ fast. 
> 
> **Warnings:** feels, alcohol use, feels, caring!Sam, feels, broken!Reader, broken!Sam, feels, Dean being a jerk and breaking his promise, feels, (semi-slow) smutty goodness, FEELS.

To say your night had gone to shit would have been the understatement to end all understatements—the result being you sitting on the floor in the bunker kitchen, relaxed back against the cool steel of the cabinets, drowning your sorrows in raw cookie dough and a fifth of Jack Daniels. The bottle had been full and so had the tub of cookie dough, both were now near half way finished, signifying _just_ how low you had stooped.

 

The chill of the cement floor beneath you feels nice against your bare legs as they lay stretched out in front of you, one ankle crossed over the other as you sit in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boy-shorts. A pout was prominent on your lips as you scoop out another spoonful of cookie dough from the tub sitting beside you, washing it down with a hefty gulp of cheap whiskey that warmed your throat all the way down.

 

"What are doing up?" A soft, familiar voice permeates the silence that had been surrounding you, a sleepy and disheveled Sam Winchester slinking into the kitchen, wearing a tight grey Henley and a pair of black track pants, his bare feet dragging across the floor as he moves in your direction, plopping down to sit beside you. You give him a halfhearted shrug, bringing the bottle up to your lips, drowning down another excessive gulp. "What happened?" He asks in a gentle tone, his eyes scanning you, the bottle, and the tub of cookie dough.

 

"The same thing that always happens," you rasp, your speech slightly slurred and your eyes unfocused as they stare down at your feet. "I had to end it," you drag on, "Had to tell him it's not gonna work out."

 

"Why?" Sam wonders.

 

"You _know_ why," you answer in an edgy voice, "We're hunters, Sam, civilians jus' end up gettin' thrown into a shitstorm they shouldn’t be in, in the firs’ place."

 

"But . . . you really liked Mike," he whispers, trying not to spur on your alcohol-induced mood.

 

"Yeah, well," you stop to drink more whiskey and scoop some more dough, "That's all it was, I didn't love 'im. I ain't jus' gonna drag someone into this life if I don't see a future with 'em." You take a minute to think before adding in a small voice, "I don't wanna pull anyone into this life at all actually."

 

Sam doesn't speak for a while, just watches you drink away your pain and eat your weight in cookie dough. "I think we should get you to bed," he says after a long run of silence, his hand stopping yours where it's began to rise the nearly-empty bottle to your lips again, his fingers prying under yours to the pull it out of your grasp gently. 

 

"Thas prolly a good idea," you agree in a drawled slur, scrambling to stand on clumsy feet and teetering a noticeable amount. "Whoa," you chuckle stupidly, grabbing at Sam's strong bicep to steady yourself as he stands beside you, "The room's spinnin'."

 

"Yeah," Sam laughs lightly, "That tends to happen when you drink too much."

 

You scoff dramatically, poking his chest as you say, "I didn't drink too much . . . _Sam_."

 

"Okay, I believe you," he smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you out of the kitchen, your limbs feeling like rubber and your head pounding with the heavy weight of drunken stupidity.

 

"Don' patronize me," you pout childishly, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try to keep up with Sam's speed, his hand steady on your hip as he guides you through the halls in the direction of your room. You grasp at the doorjamb once you reach your door, pulling yourself away from Sam who's standing behind you, hands held out in front of him, ready to grab you just in case you take a nosedive—which you almost do when you push the door open. "Shit!" You gasp, tumbling forward and closing your eyes as you prepare yourself for a face full of concrete. You never connect with the floor though, Sam luckily reading the situation beforehand, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back to his chest before you have a chance to fall

 

"Easy does it," he chuckles, pressing himself up against you to push you towards the bed, ignoring your slurred protest of _I'm not some damsel in distress, I can get into my own bed._ "Okay," he murmurs once you've fallen down onto the mattress with an annoyed huff, kicking your legs lazily to rid the bed of the thick blanket covering it. Sam shakes his head and grabs it before it falls to the ground, draping it over you as you flip over onto your stomach, your hair a crazy mess where it's falling over the pillow you have tucked in your arms. 

 

"Sam?" You call out in a small rasp when you hear him begin to retreat, turning your head to look at him. "Can you stay for a while?" You ask, looking up into his eyes as you whisper, "I don't wanna fall asleep alone."

 

Sam gives you a small, close-lipped smile, one that you barely catch as he nods. You can see a hint of apprehension in his eyes as he climbs into the bed, even in your drunk stupor. You turn on your side to face him, his position mirroring yours as he lays next to you. He doesn't get under the covers, just lays on top of them so there's some kind of barrier between your bodies, separated by only inches. You look at his face, where's he's doing the same to you—neither of you speak, just look each other in the eye until your eyelids start to droop with whiskey-induced exhaustion. "Thank you," you barely whisper, your voice so small Sam almost doesn't hear it.

 

He does though. He watches your eyes flutter shut in a sluggish way, your lips parting just enough to emit a soft sigh as sleep overtakes you. He waits until your breathing steadies to trail a cautious finger across your forehead, swiping away the hair that's fallen in your face, tenderly tucking it back behind your ear as he smiles just the slightest amount. "I'm sorry," he whispers as a sad frown replaces it, "I'm sorry I can't save you from the pain this life entails. I wish I could make it easier for you somehow." He listen to the small snore that filters out of your mouth, tiny and adorable. "I wish I had the courage to tell you how I feel," he says, his quiet voice a bit shaky with emotion, "I wish you could see how amazing you are, how beautiful you are to me. I know you doubt yourself . . . and I wish you didn't." He takes a deep breath before adding, "I wish I were enough for you."

 

Sam knows he should go to his own bed when his eyelids start to grow heavy, but he can't found the strength to move. It's like he feels anchored to your bed, watching you sleep peacefully in the dim lamplight, drunk and unmoving aside from the way your nose crinkles every once in a while, tiny and incoherent mumbles passing your parted lips before you start snoring again. A lazy smile overtakes his face as his body goes lax and his eyes fall shut on their own accord, sleep taking him under, his large hand unconsciously slipping into yours where it lays palm up between your bodies, his other tucked under his head on the pillow that smells like your shampoo.

 

* * *

 

 _Oh my fucking god_ is the first thought that crosses your mind when your body slowly comes back to life, a steady pounding kicking against your skull and a disgusting taste coating your tongue. You don't dare pull your eyes open just yet, the dimness of your lamp seeming like the light of a billion suns as it tries to filter through your eyelids. You groan out, the sound long and dramatic as you roll over to your other side to get away from the light, stopping dead in your tracks when you make contact with something large and solid. It's warm, almost unbearably warm against your clammy skin, and oh fuck—it just _moved_.

 

Your head feels like it weighs a million pounds as you sit up in your bed like a whip, quickly clutching your forehead when you grow lightheaded. "Are you okay?" A groggy voice asks, making you pull your hand away and look to your side to see a sleepy Sam sprawled out on your bed. He's completely clothed and not under your blanket, so you breathe a sigh of relief at that.

 

"I'm . . . I'm uh . . ." You stammer in a raspy, throaty voice, your stomach gurgling and bubbling inside you, "I'm gonna throw up." You quickly scramble off your bed, making a dash for your en-suit and falling down to your knees in front of the toilet, hunching over and emptying your stomach into the porcelain bowl, unattractive sounds filling the bathroom as your body expels whatever it can. You're too busy retching and gagging to hear a second presence shuffling around somewhere near you. "Oh _god_ ," you groan, leaning into the cold washcloth you feel being dragging across your forehead and down the sides of your neck, a hand gently pulling your hair back into a makeshift ponytail so it's out of the way as you go in for round two.

 

"It's alright," you hear Sam say in soothing voice, "Just let it all out." He drags the soaked washcloth across the back of your neck, cooling down your heated skin as your back aches up, a garbled cough ripping out of your throat as you hurl into the toilet, your hands grasping at the chilled porcelain sides. Your knees ache from how hard you're pressing them into the floor, an uncontrolled tremble covering your body as you empty the contents of your stomach. Tears burn your eyes as vomit sits like acid on your tongue, snot steaming out of your nose in the grossest way possible. 

 

After a few minutes, when your stomach is finally empty and you've regained control of your gag reflex, you pull yourself up and sit back on your haunches, accepting the washcloth Sam holds out to you as he crouches down beside you. You groan as you swipe it around your mouth and nose, cleaning away any evidence of your hideous retching. Your eyes slowly meet Sam's, a concerned look on his face as he looks at you. "How much did I drink last night?" is your first question.

 

"Almost an entire fifth of Jack," he tells you as he closes the lid to flush the toilet, "On top of the half tub of raw chocolate chip cookie dough you ate."

 

"That would explain why my mouth tastes like ass and chocolate," you reply, slowly standing to your feet and moving to the sink. You wash your hands thoroughly and brush your teeth for a good five minutes, gargling and swooshing a hefty amount of minty mouthwash after for another minute and half. "Why were you in my bed?" is your second question after you spit into the basin and toss your hair up into a messy bun, not looking at Sam as you turn the sink tap on and splash cool water on your face, blindly reaching for the towel on the counter next to you get to dry off.

 

"You uh . . . asked me to stay," Sam says as he sits on the closed toilet, nervously fidgeting with his hands, "You said you didn't want to fall asleep alone."

 

"Oh," you drag out the word, giving him a quick glance before pulling open your medicine cabinet and grabbing a bottle of aspirin for your headache. You fill up the glass you keep by the sink with cold water and pop two of the pills in your mouth, chugging nearly the whole cup of water as you swallow them down. There's a tinge of awkwardness permeating the silence of bathroom as Sam stares down at the floor and you lean over the sink with your hands pressed flat against the counter. "Thanks for staying with me," you finally say, turning your head to meet Sam's gaze when he looks over at you, "Last night wasn't really a good night for me . . . obviously."

 

"Yeah, you uh . . . you told me about Mike," he says in cautious voice, not wanting to rub you the wrong way. 

 

You shrug carelessly and put on a brave face, "You win some, you lose some, I guess." 

 

"That sounds like something Dean would say," Sam comments, no humor in his voice. You hate that he can see right through your facade, and how he catches the underlying sadness in your voice.

 

"Well," you look into the mirror above the sink to examine your flushed cheeks and tired eyes, "You're always saying how similar the two of us are."

 

"Y/N—"

 

"Sam, I really don't wanna talk about it," you stop him, your voice trembling with emotion you can't control. "Can we . . . Can I just be alone for a while?" You ask, swiping at your cheeks to wipe away the tears that have started to fall despite your best effort to hold them back, desperately trying to hide them from Sam—he's already seen you throw up your guts, embarrassing as _that_ was.

 

"Sure," Sam answers in a soft voice, standing to his feet. You let your eyes fall shut as he stands to your side, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and tender kiss on your temple. "I'm here if you need me," he tells you. You give him a small nod, not daring to look up at his face, finding purchase in boring a hole into the steel of the sink in front of you.

 

You listen as Sam's walks away, only pulling yourself away from the sink when you hear the sound of your bedroom door click shut. You climb back into bed, pulling the sheets and blankets over you as you lay on your side, pulling your knees up to your chest as you lay your head upon the pillow Sam had been sleeping on. The tears come like a flood as his scent invades your sense of smell, your heart wrenching in your chest as you sob into the pillow.

 

You remember enough of last night. You had told Sam you broke it off with Mike because it wouldn't work out due to the life you lead, but that couldn't have been farther from the truth. The only reason you'd broke up with Mike is because you had feelings for another, one who saw you as nothing more than a little sister, a hunting companion at best. Every time you'd look into Mike's brown eyes, you'd see hazel, flecks of green, blue, and gold. When you'd run a hand through Mike's short, inky black hair, you'd wish for nothing more than to feel the softness of long brunette locks. And every time you'd kiss Mike's thin, chapped lips, you'd imagine they were the pink and plush ones that belonged to someone else.

 

You didn't love Mike—that much was true. You just loved that you could imagine him as another person entirely when you were with him, and could use him as source of release as you pictured it being someone else. It was selfish and callous, and that's why you _had_ to end it. That wasn't you. Sure, you'd had your fair share of affairs and one night stands, but you'd never gone as far as to get into a relationship and pretend it was someone else the entire time. It was screwed up in every sense of the word, and it only caused you more pain in the end.

 

You cried your heart out until sleep took you again. 

 

* * *

 

When you wake up the next time, you'd don't feel like you've been hit by an eighteen wheeler and left for dead. There's only an ache in your chest and puffy red skin around your eyes from crying so much. When you roll over to look at the alarm clock on your beside table, you see that it's nearly six at night, meaning Dean's probably making dinner.

 

You reluctantly drag yourself out of bed, stripping yourself out of your clothes and taking a quick shower before you pull on a pair of baggy track pants and a large hoodie, pulling your damp hair up into a ponytail. You finally retreat from your room and travel down the wide corridors to the kitchen, where Dean, like you had guessed, was standing in front of the stove stirring the contents of a pot. You drag your feet as you walk over to him, grunting in response when he turns to smile at you. You let him tug you up against his side, his arm around your back as he continues to fix dinner.

 

"I'm makin' your favorite," he tells you, scooping up some of the sauce he's stirring at with a wooden spoon, holding it up for you to sample. You blow on it a bit before trying it, nodding and smiling up at Dean as he looks down at you with expectant eyes. "Thought you'd need a pick-me-up after your whiskey-filled night," he chuckles, pointing over at the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the counter with the wooden spoon, "Sam told me you woke up and nearly turned yourself inside out throwing up."

 

"Ugh," you groan, pulling away from him and moving to sit at the table in the center of the kitchen, "Can we _not_ rehash, please? I'm already embarrassed that he saw me like that as it is."

 

"Would this have anything to do with the fact that you _loooove_ him?" Dean teases immaturely, making your stomach flop inside you.

 

"Shut _up_!" You hiss, waving your hands wildly, "You promised you wouldn't say anything!" 

 

"Oh, calm _down_ , princess," Dean chuckles, "Sam's not here, I sent him to the grocery store to pick up some garlic bread for dinner." You breathe out a sigh of relief, instantly regretting telling Dean your feelings for Sam in the first place. You really _should_ stop drinking, because he'd gotten it out of you when the two of you had been sharing a bottle of Jose Cuervo a few weeks ago. You were sloppy and uncoordinated, pacing about the library floor as you told a just-as-drunk Dean all about it using crazy hand gestures and sighing about a million times.

 

"You should tell him how you feel," Dean says, dumping raw spaghetti noodles into the boiling pot of water in front of him. 

 

You mouth falls open to object when Sam comes in with bags of grocery dangling on his arms, a curious expression on his face when he asks you, "Tell _who_ how you feel?"

 

"No one!" You and Dean shout at the same time, both totally caught off guard by Sam's sudden entrance and looking like a pair of deer trapped in headlights as you stare at him.

 

"Okay?" Sam drones on, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as he places the bags down on the counter next to the stove where's Dean standing, who’s _trying_ to act cool, calm, and collected as he fishes around in one of the plastic bags to find the box of garlic bread. Sam's gaze flits between the two of you, eerily suspicious of your weird behavior. He says nothing as he takes a seat across from you at the table, his hands meshing together on top of it as he stares you down. "Are you feeling better?" He asks.

 

"Y-Yeah," you shrug, your chest tight and your right leg bouncing nervously underneath the table. He gives you a look that's unreadable before his face softens with a smile, his hand reaching out to pats yours where's it's lying flat on the table. You give him a wobbly smile, looking down at your lap when you feel a blush creep into your cheeks.

 

You all sit in silence while Dean finishes dinner, Sam deciding to read the paper while you wait, his eyes looking over it every once and while to catch you looking at him. You look away quickly every time, looking over to watch Dean shuffle around the kitchen instead, banging the oven door once he's taken the garlic bread out and cursing under his breath when boiling hot water splashes on his hand as he strains the noodles.

 

"Ta da!" He grins when he's plated three plates of spaghetti and meatballs, bringing them to the table and setting them down like a real waiter. "Beer anyone?" He asks.

 

"Hell _no_ ," you shake your head, "I just want water." You hear Sam chuckle, telling Dean he'll take one before digging into his dinner. 

 

You eat in mostly silence, the tension still evident in the air and as palpable as ever. Dean makes small talk, desperately trying to keep his composure as he looks at you and Sam, an asshole grin on his face when he looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows, nodding his head towards Sam inconspicuously. You bite back a snide comment, glaring at him and busing yourself by shoving a mouthful of delicious spaghetti in your mouth, chewing dramatically as you narrow your eyes at him.

 

"Is there something you two would like to share with the class?" Sam finally asks in an exasperated tone, dropping his fork to his plate and crossing his forearms on the table in front of him. You and Dean both choke on mouthfuls of food, coughing and hacking embarrassingly as you reach for your respective beverages, gulping them down to clear your throats.

 

"N-No," you swallow back another coughing fit, "Your brother's just an ass."

 

Sam's lips purse as he assesses you, his eyes boring into yours. You immediately want to shrink in on yourself, disappear completely. "So, there's _nothing_ you want to tell me?" He asks, "Maybe enlighten me as to why you two are acting so _weird_?"

 

You look over at Dean when his mouth falls open to speak, quickly shaking your head to try and stop whatever he's about to say. "Y/N didn't break up with Mike because she's a hunter and he's a civilian . . . "

 

"Dean, _don't_!"

 

"She broke up with him because he wasn't you," he tells Sam, completely ignoring your protests. "We're acting weird because we were talking about you when you walked in," Dean continues, "I told her she should tell you how she feels."

 

"God, if you're listening—please strike me dead right here," you say under your breath, your head in your hands so you can't see either brother. When you finally gain the courage, you stare right at Dean, throwing him daggers. "I'm going to _kill_ you," you say in a dangerously low voice, standing to your feet and quickly making a dash for your room, leaving the brothers just staring as you go.

 

You quickly scramble around your room after forcibly slamming the door, pulling on shoes and frantically searching for your car keys. "Where in the _fuck_?" You hiss under your breath as you dump your purse out onto the bed and sift through the contents like a mad woman, cursing yourself for being such a drunken mess last night and not remembering where you put them. You don't dare turn around when you hear your bedroom door open, continuing your search by tearing open your bedside table drawer and rummaging inside it, then pulling every cover and pillow off your bed.

 

"Y/N, stop!" You hear Sam shout, his hands grabbing your shoulders to whirl you around so you're looking right him. "Just . . . stop," he whispers, his eyes staying locked on your wide ones, noticing the tears that have collected in them.

 

"You don't want me, Sam," you break down, "I know that. I'm a mess and I'm . . . I'm broken beyond measure. I ruin everything I touch, I just put everything and everyone I love in danger, and I get into these relationships that mean nothing to me to try and fill this void I have inside me. I don't like being lonely, that's why I asked you stay with me last night . . . even though I don't remember doing it."

 

"Y/N—"

 

"And what Dean said is true—goddamn him. I broke up with Mike because he wasn't you . . . none of them are. Every time I meet someone or sleep with them, I imagine it's you every time. I don't remember when I started developing these feelings for you, I, honest to God, _can't_ remember. And I . . . I didn't even really know I felt this way until a few months ago when we were working that wendigo case in Tampa, you remember?" Sam only nods, his eyes growing shiny with emotion as his bottom lip trembles. "You got hurt pretty bad," you whimper, "You lost so much blood that night and I felt so helpless, Sam. I started imagining my life without you in it and I . . . I _ached_ , I ached so deeply that I felt like I was gonna be sick. I told you while you were laying in that hospital bed, I told you that I loved you and that I needed you here with me."

 

You were a complete mess, tripping over your words and crying pathetically. "I met Mike soon after we got home when you were finally discharged and . . . and I started a relationship with him to try and distract myself from the way I felt about you. But it only made me realize how much I _do_ feel for you, Sam. I saw you every time I was with him, I saw _your_ eyes instead of his, I felt _your_ hands instead of his, I . . . I imagined myself saying ‘I love you’ to _you_ every time I said it to him. I never loved him, Sam," you choke on a sob, adding in a whispered, "Not the way I love you."

 

You bite back another set of sobs that threaten to rack your body, swiping furiously at your face to clean up the tears that drench it as you move away from Sam, walking towards your bedroom door. Your hand doesn't have time to twist the brass knob before Sam's placing himself between you and the door, blocking your exit and pushing you away from it with his gentle hands on your upper arms. 

 

"You're not going anywhere until you hear me say _this_ ," he tells you in a shaky voice, his own batch of tears streaming down his face. You look up into his eyes, the hazel color blown wide with so much emotion that your chest nearly caves in on itself. "I have loved you since that time in Chattanooga when you got sloppy drunk and danced around our entire motel room to 'Man, I Feel Like A Woman'," he chuckles, grasping your face in his hands when you try to look away, "And I fell in love with you all over again during that wendigo case, when you held me against you in the back of the Impala the entire ride to the hospital. I was so delirious from blood loss, but you kept telling me that everything was going to be okay and you looked down at me with so much sincerity and fear in your eyes, that I . . . I couldn't _help_ but fall in love with you."

 

"Sam," you rasp, placing your hands over his on your face.

 

"I'm not finished," he says, taking a deep breath and sniffling before continuing. "It made my heart ache every time I saw you with someone else, it . . . it made me feel like I'd never be the man you need, that I'd never be able to give you enough if you were mine," his voice trembles, "You say you're broken but . . . if anyone's a broken mess, it's me. It scares me to love you this much, Y/N—because everyone I've ever loved like this has ended up dead or hurt. My body _hurts_ every time I think about something happening to you because of the way I feel about you, I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt because of me. But I . . . I can't go another day without telling you how much I need you, Y/N, how much I _want_ _you_."

 

"Sam," you say again, pressing forward and closing the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle and splaying your hands out on his back. He leans in, trailing the tip of his nose along yours, moving his hands down to hold your neck as you both stand silent, and just breathe each other in. 

 

"Let me show you," Sam breathes out against your lips, gently brushing his against them, sighing out heavily through his nose when you press forward, sealing your mouths together as your way of saying _okay, show me_. The kiss is a slow build up, tender movement of closed lips transforming into a heated make out session with Sam experimentally licking into your mouth after coaxing your lips apart, the taste of him making you moan softly in response.

 

Your hands roam around the expanse of his back and shoulders, feeling the hard, solid muscle through the thin t-shirt he's wearing, you're fingers digging into his taut flesh hidden beneath the material, feeling the corded strength flex under your touch. You gasp into Sam's mouth when one of his large hands splays out against the lower portion of your back just above your ass, dragging you up against his chest as the other tangles in your hair to hold your head as close to his as he can get it as he laps at your tongue, playfully coaxing it into joining his.

 

You hum in approval when he tugs at your hoodie, reluctantly pulling your mouth away from his and quickly tearing it off your body, leaving your upper body completely exposed since you'd gone braless after your shower. You do the same with Sam's shirt, noticing the darkened look in his eyes when you look up into them as you drop it to the floor between the two of you, his mouth turned up into a lazy grin. You bite your bottom lip as you let your gaze wander down his built shoulders, arms, chest, and torso, gently scraping a fingernail along the thin trail of hair that starts under his bellybutton and eventually disappears into the waistband of his boxers, exposed just a small amount due his jeans hanging ridiculously low on his chiseled hips.

 

Sam does the same to you, trailing a light fingertip down between your breasts, making a circle around your bellybutton once he reaches it, and eventually hooking the finger into the elastic waistband of your track pants, tugging you forward with the unbelievable strength that one finger contains. You lean into him, leaving an onslaught of open-mouthed kisses along one of his prominent collarbones, your hands gliding up his sides as you breathe in his scent. His chest is warm against yours, the first feeling of skin-to-skin contact making you buzz all over. You tip your head back when Sam presses his thumb up into the underside of your chin, leaning down to shower your neck in sweet kisses as you tug at his belt, stripping the leather from its buckle confinement and blindly undoing his jeans as you sigh out his name.

 

Sam runs his hands down your bare back in a tantalizing way until he's able to pull your track pants down, letting them fall to your ankles and leaving you completely naked before him after you kick them away. You moan when you feel him slide a strong hand between your thighs, his fingers running along your most sensitive flesh, your own hands growing more frantic as you shove them into the back of jeans and boxers to push them down, humming when you feel the firm muscle of his ass under your palms as he rolls two fingers around your clit, moving back to slide them through your folds and circling your soaked hole.

 

"Need you," he husks into the crook of your neck, crouching down to grab the backs of your thighs and effortlessly picking you up as he kicks away his jeans and boxers. You gasp as he turns and presses you back into the door of your bedroom, your legs wrapping high around his waist and your hands sliding into his hair as he fits his mouth to yours for a hot, tongue-filled kiss. You cry into his mouth when he slides you down onto his hard cock, his girth stretching you deliciously as he pushes up while you slide down, not stopping until he's buried all the way inside you.

 

You pull your mouth away from his, letting your head fall back against the door as you moan deeply, your lips parted and your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure settles over you. Sam holds you up easily, his hands still clasped around the back of your thighs as he lets you get used to feeling of him inside you—and _fuck_ , you feel every single inch, tucked away within your fluttering walls. His fingers are digging into your smooth flesh as he pants against your jaw, a low sound of pleasure emitting from deep in his throat. "You feel so good," he tells you in a throaty rumble that reverberates throughout your entire body, "Even better than I imagined."

 

You bring your head back up to look into his eyes, his pupils blown wide with admiration and desire as they stare back into yours, no doubt looking the same way as his. "Please, Sam . . . please move," you whimper out your plea, "Wanna feel you move inside me." He moans out gutturally through parted lips in response, slowly dragging himself out of you and pushing back in even slower. You both gasp, eyes locked as you experience that first thrust together, experiencing the first moment of solidarity as your bodies meet again. It's the most intimate you've ever been with someone before, nothing's rushed, sloppy, or rough—it's just you and Sam, joined as one solid body as he looks deep into your eyes with so much pleasure and love.

 

"Sam," you whimper out again, your voice wavering with emotion and fresh tears filling your eyes as you speak his name.

 

"I gotcha," he whispers shakily as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining on yours as he pulls his hips back again, snapping them forward a few seconds later and knocking the air from your lungs. You let out a loud moan, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand as the other grasps at his shoulder tightly, your hips flexing in response to the slow rhythm Sam finds with his, his own hands squeezing your ass as he moves between your soft thighs.

 

You kiss him on the lips firmly, rocking down against him with what little leverage this position allows, scorching hot pleasure thrumming through your body as you tremble in his hold. Your first orgasm comes unannounced and completely unexpected, intense and toe-curling as Sam fucks you through it. You cling to him, sobbing into his ear as the white-hot pleasure courses and throbs through you, your arms scrambling to wrap around his neck and pull in him tight as you writhe against him. "That's my girl," Sam whispers in your ear, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and bracing his free hand against the door as he rocks into you.

 

"Oh, _fuck_ ," you gasp, your hips jerking wildly as the aftershocks melt away any self-control you might have possessed, you mouth open against Sam's ear as you pant through the end of your release. No one's ever made you come so quick, and it's taking _way_ too long for your brain to catch up with your body's response to Sam. You're hot all over, slick with sweat as Sam brings his hips to stop and holds you close as you finally regain your senses. You bury your face in his neck, placing a sweet kiss to whatever patch of skin your lips are pressed against. 

 

You feel Sam moving away from the door a few seconds later, holding you tight as he walks towards the bed, pressing his knees down into the mattress as he gently lays you down on it, still hard and throbbing where he's buried deep inside you. He gives you a tender kiss before sitting back on his haunches, his hands on your hips so he can pull you up along with him as he moves, the change in position making his cock press up into your gspot. You sink your teeth down into your bottom lip, pulling your knees up and hooking your ankles over his shoulders. You smile lazily when Sam turns his head to the side to kiss the inside of one, his hands moving to tightly grasp the front of your thighs as he pulls his hips back, rocking back into you and making you cry out loudly.

 

"So fuckin' beautiful," Sam husks out, pushing your knees down towards your chest to fold you half, his strong body leaning over you so he's got the right leverage to pound you down into the mattress, his controlled demeanor long gone as he moans out wildly in pleasure. You're too far gone to care about how loud you're being, your arms thrown at to the sides as you clutch the sheets tightly and expel sound after sound, a jumbled mess of Sam's name and colorful curses spilling out of your mouth. You come in no time when Sam finagles a hand between your bodies and presses his thumb against you clit, pushing the pad of it into the soft bundle of nerves and circling around it quickly.

 

"Wanna ride you, Sam," you pant out once you've come down and he's let your legs fall open. He hums deeply in approval, wrapping his arms around your middle and tugging you up against his chest as flips over onto his back, his cock still not leaving you in the process. You settle in his lap as he sprawls out on your bed, his hair a wild mess and sweat glistening on his sculpted body. He trails his hands up your chest, cupping your breasts as you roll your hips in tantalizing circles. You wrap your hands around his wrists, keeping his where they are and biting your bottom lip when you feel him pulse inside you, thick and hot and trapped within your soaked walls.

 

Sam thinks he's never seen you look more beautiful, so blissed out on him as you look down into his eyes with a fiery passion he's never seen from you before. He's also thinks you're hottest fuckin' thing since the sun itself, so fucked out already as you pop your hips above him, willing to give him all the pleasure you can. He watches with heavily lidded eyes as you place your hands over his on your breasts, and moans deep in his chest when you let your head fall back while you pull yourself up in his lap, careening back down in the sexiest way he's ever seen from a woman before. 

 

He lets you do your own thing for a while, just until a carnal need overtakes him, making him pull his knees up until his feet are flat on the mattress beneath him. He hears the startle-filled way you moan when he suddenly thrust up into you quickly, your head snapping forward to look down at him, your lips parted and your eyes glazed over with so much unhindered lust for him. It damn near takes his breath away.

 

You fall forward over him, pressing your forearms down into the mattress on either side of his head and grabbing the sheets. You watch Sam, completely enraptured by the way he tosses his head back and moans out loud and entirely carefree, his hands sliding up the back your thighs until he's grasping at your ass as he pounds up into you. You slide your tongue up the expanse of his stretched neck, stopping to tenderly kiss the underside of his chin as you hum and whimper in pleasure, your third orgasm quickly approaching, because at this point, considering how sensitive and swollen you are between your thighs—it wouldn't take much at all for you to come again.

 

Sam pulls his head back up to quickly press his lips up into yours, releasing a series of his own whimpers as his thrusting grows more and more uncoordinated, his body trembling under yours with his impending release. "Fuck," he husks out against your lips, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you as close to him as possible. You card your fingers through his unkempt hair, pleading with and encouraging him to come for you— _God, Sam, wanna feel you come inside me._

 

That's all it takes for Sam to cry out uncontrollably as he snaps his hips up wildly, burying himself inside you deeply as he fills you up with his hot load, the brisk roughness of it sending you tumbling over the edge with him. You cling to each other as you bask in your mutual releases, calling out each other's names as you ride them out against each other, drenched in sweat and panting harshly. 

 

Minutes later, when you've both gotten your fill of grinding your hips and kissing whatever skin your lips can reach, Sam uses his remaining energy to roll you over onto your back, gently pulling out his softened cock. You hum tiredly, rolling onto your side when he falls down on his back beside you. You lay your head on his outstretched arm, tossing a leg over his torso and letting your eyes flutter shut as you cuddle up to his side, a sleepy grin taking over your face when Sam turns his head to place a sweet kiss on your damp forehead.

 

"I'm still gonna kill your brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke my own damn heart writing this.


	10. Sam & Dean; The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of . . . Wet Dreams That Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is filth. I am trash.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Oral (reader giving mostly), heaps of dirty talk, a tiny hint of Wincest if you squint _really_ hard, surprise ending

"C'mon, you two, we gotta— _whoa_!"

 

You dislodge Sam's stiff cock from your throat and turn your head to see Dean standing in the threshold of the motel room door he'd just slung open without knocking, his mouth fallen agape and his eyes glued to where you're kneeling on the ground in front of his baby brother. "Hi, Dean," you greet as you sit back on your haunches, an innocent smile stretching your swollen lips. You swipe away that spit that's dribbled down your chin before saying, "Well, don't just stand there with the door wide open like you were raised in a barn or somethin'."

 

Dean collects himself and steps all the way into the room, shutting the door behind as he gives you an unreadable look. "I leave you two alone for twenty minutes," he grumbles, shedding his jacket and tossing it over a chair, "Only to come back and find you on your knees . . . doin' _that_." 

 

You look up at Sam with a humored smirk on your face, winking at him before turning your attention back to Dean and saying with a shrug, "We got bored."

 

"Well . . . play Yahtzee or somethin'," he scoffs as he bends down to unlace his boots and kick them off, Sam's deep chuckle filling your ears.

 

"You jealous, Winchester?" You chuckle, smirking devilishly when Dean whips around to stare you down, his jaw ticking in the sexiest way as he grits his teeth.

 

"No. For your information, I'm _not_ jeal—Sammy! For the love of God, dude . . . put your dick back in your pants already!" Sam doesn't move, only laughs freely.

 

"But I'm not done with him yet," you pout petulantly. You take a few seconds to think before raising an eyebrow and adding, "You could always join us." You smirk when Dean goes rigid, his eyes wide and confused when they meet yours, his gaze slowly moving down to scan your still-kneeling position in front of Sam, whose cock is still on full display—hard, leaky, and downright mouth-watering. "I've never played with two guys at the same time before," you say in a sultry tone, your eyes flitting between the two brothers, batting your eyelashes and rocking your hips just the slightest.

 

You bite your bottom lip when Dean's bewildered expression slowly melts away and is replaced by a wolfish grin, a building fire in his emerald eyes as he walks towards you. "Guess we'll have to change that, won't we?" His voice deepens, getting huskier and throatier as he speaks. You nod, looking up into his eyes as he unbuckles his belt and running a hand up over the denim covering his strong thigh. You watch with expectant eyes as he pushes his belt apart and pops the button on his jeans, slowly inching your hand up higher until you feel his cock under your touch, growing harder as you palm him through his jeans. You shudder when you hear him release his zipper, the sound bouncing around the room along with your heavy breathing and little whimpers of anticipation.

 

"Fuck," you sigh when Dean reaches into his boxers and pulls himself free, large in size even for only being half-hard. You feel Sam shuffle up to your unoccupied side, grabbing your shoulder as you reach up and take him in your hand, your eyes locked on Dean's as you wrap your free hand around him as well. They release twin groans, both rocking into your hands, heavy and silky smooth in your grasp. You pump Dean in a slow way, humming as he grows to full length in your palm with every stroke, a glistening bead of precome oozing out of his purpling head. Dean curses under his breath, placing his hand over yours where it's holding his shaft at the base.

 

"Tongue out," he commands, pressing a thumb into the dip under you bottom lip using his free hand, encouraging you to open your mouth and hold your tongue out for him. You moan in a surprised way when he playfully swats at it with the head of cock, a smirk stretching your parted lips.

 

"She's got such a good little tongue," Sam husks, running a hand through your hair as Dean slides himself into your mouth. You reward Sam by tightening your hand around him and pumping a little harder, a deep chesty moan coming from him in response. "Go ahead and show him, baby girl," he says, "Wrap those pretty little lips around his cock and suck him." You moan wantonly, leaning into Dean and sliding your mouth down onto him like Sam told you to, tightening your lips around his thick shaft and pulling back in a tight suck, hollowing out your cheeks as you look up into his eyes.

 

"God, yeah," Dean breathes out, sliding a hand into your hair where Sam's still got his, their joined hands guiding you up and down Dean's cock as you hum around him. "Yeah, take it just like that," he moans when you suck him down your throat, expertly controlling your gag reflex as you build a steady up and down rhythm, still stroking Sam with your free hand as you do. You can feel a slick wetness between your thighs, drenching your panties and yoga pants almost all the way through. This feels like something straight out of a porno—you, of all people, sucking off two sexy as hell guys as they praise your mouth and moan for you.

 

You pull away from Dean and instantly turn your head to Sam, sucking him down the same way you had Dean, not even giving yourself a minute to breathe. They're both releasing the filthiest, sexiest sounds ever. "Such a good little slut for me and Dean," Sam groans, thrusting his hips forward to fuck your mouth, "Down on your knees for us, suckin' our cocks like such a dirty fuckin' girl." You moan around him, looking up into his lust-blown eyes, the sound of Dean stroking his spit-soaked cock filling your ears as you open your throat for Sam.

 

"I wanna come on those sexy lips of yours, sweetheart," Dean manages to say through his grunts, his hand working his shaft in a tight fist.

 

You pull your mouth off Sam and turned to Dean, letting out a breathy little, "Fuck yeah." You keen when Dean uses his free hand to tug at your hair, holding your head in place as he strokes himself off with the other, the oozing head pressed against your parted lips as he moans deep in his chest. "I fuckin' want it," you pant as you look him straight in the eye, practically vibrating with arousal as you trail a hand up his stomach over his shirt, "Want that hot load all over my face, Dean."

 

"Christ . . . _fuck_!" Dean shouts in pleasure, his head falling back as he releases all over your open mouth, coating your lips, tongue, and nose in thick spurts of salty come. You chuckle breathlessly, lapping at the tip of his cock with kitten licks, moaning shamelessly when you taste him. Dean looks down at you, panting heavily as he rubs himself against your lips, smearing his spunk all around the outer edges of your mouth. "You look so fuckin' good with my come all over your face," he rambles in a deep throaty voice, "I bet Sammy's got a load of his own to add here soon."

 

You purr in approval, turning your head to see where Sam's fisting his cock in slow twists, his legs trembling as he moans over and over again, his eyes nearly black as they stare down at you. "Open up," he demands, "Gonna come on that nasty little tongue of yours." You obey, placing your hands on his thighs and letting your mouth fall open less than an inch away from his leaky cockhead. "Such a pretty picture you make," he smirks, rocking his hips forward to fuck his fist as he moans, "Stay just like that . . . oh fuck, _just_ like that."

 

You feel Dean slide a hand around the front of your neck from where he's standing behind you, sliding it up under your chin so you're forced to stay where you are, eyes up, looking into Sam's as you hold your mouth open for him—not that you're complaining about it. "Look at you," you hear Dean chuckle darkly, "So ready for more, such a greedy girl you are." You hum in response, your lips sticky where his come is starting to grow tacky and cool.

 

"Give it to me, Sam," you say in a filthy whisper, opening your mouth once again when you notice him stroke his cock faster and his eyebrows scrunch up in pleasure. You moan when you feel a unique warmth splash on your tongue, a little more bitter than Dean's but _just_ as delicious. Sam comes a lot more than Dean had, filling your mouth and coating your tongue almost completely. You lean into him, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking lavishly, making him shudder and gasp brokenly as you milk him dry.

 

"Let me see," Sam says, pulling your mouth away from his cock and sliding his index finger between your lips to pry your mouth open. You wiggle your tongue for him, watching the way he smirks when he sees your come-drenched tongue. "Swallow it," he demands and you gladly obey, swallowing every last drop of him, humming in approval as it slides warm down your throat. You bite your bottom lip when Dean trails his index finger across your upper lip just under your nose, where a streak of his own come still sits. He feeds it to you, growling deeply when you suck his finger clean and roll your tongue around it. He repeats the action until your face is nearly clean, still sticky with the residue of him and Sam.

 

"If you thought that was good," Sam husks to Dean, running a hand through your hair as he smirks at his brother, "Wait until you taste _her_." You shiver at Sam's words, rising to your feet between them, your knees aching deliciously from how long you'd been down on them. You sigh as Sam presses his mouth against your ear, leaning the side of your body against his chest. "Whatta ya say?" He asks, "Want me and Dean to eat that sweet pussy of yours until you can't remember your own name?"

 

"Yeah, princess," Dean agrees in your other ear, pressing his body against your other side as he runs a hand up the inner portion of one of your thighs. "How 'bout I slide my tongue right up inside you?" He husks, cupping you through your yoga pants, making your breathing hitch in your throat. "You're already soaked, I can _feel_ it," he tells you, "Got so wet suckin' our cocks, didn't you?"

 

"Fuck yes!" You gasp, trembling between their bodies, so ready for whatever they’re going to do to you. They both chuckle in your ears, their hands groping and sliding over your body, rutting their spent cocks against your hips. You moan deeply when Sam shoves your bottoms and panties down forcefully, demanding you kick them away before laying down on the bed—you obey with no hesitation.

 

You're a panting, wanton mess when you sink down onto the firm motel mattress, spreading your legs wide as Sam and Dean slowly crawl towards you, their eyes dark and their tongues running over their bottom lips as they look at you like you're their prey to ravage. God, you've never been so turned on in your life—this _has_ to be a dream. You curse when Dean trails the flat of his tongue up your thigh staring at your knee, his eyes locked on yours as he inches closer the apex of it, only to pull back up at the last second. Sam's doing the same on the other thigh, murmuring sweet filthy nothings into your soft flesh as he does. You cry out when he sink his teeth into the fleshiest part near the top, his eyes snapping up to meet yours as he sucks a mark onto your skin.

 

"Fuck . . . please," you beg them, rolling your hips sensually, so delirious from the thick arousal of it all that you can't control yourself. You damn near scream when they both move to the pot of gold between your trembling thighs, their wet, hot tongues colliding together right against your clit, their mouths fighting each other to get the first taste of you, and fuck if you don't come right then and there. It's filthy and wrong and sends a thrill buzzing up your spine as you watch them lick you at the same time, both moaning and growling possessively as they feast on you together.

 

Just when you're about to come, your vision blurs and darkens, the hungry boys between your thighs suddenly disappearing as your world spins into pure darkness. "Hey!" You hear Dean's voice, making your eyes shoot open as you quickly sit up in the bed you'd fallen asleep in hours ago. You're confused for about five seconds before you remember you'd decided to take a nap earlier—meaning everything you'd just witnessed _had_ been a goddamn dream. 

 

"Food's here," Dean tells you, standing beside the bed with a brown paper bag that's stained with grease in one hand and a six-pack in the other. You look at him with narrowed eyes, the light of the room too bright for your liking. You look over to your right to see Sam sitting at the small table in the room, face buried in his laptop. You grumble something under your breath about 'of course you wake me up before I got off . . . _scoff_ . . . typical man.'

 

"So," Dean smirks, tossing you a cheeseburger as he sits across from Sam, "What were ya dreamin' about?"

 

Your eyes widen, a deep blush crawling up your face. "What? Nothing . . . no one—I mean _nothing_ , it was nothing," you reply quickly, almost _too_ quickly, more flustered than you've ever been in your entire life, unable to meet Dean or Sam's eyes as they both look at you with risen brows of curiosity.

 

"You sure were makin' some pretty serious happy noises in your sleep," Dean grins smugly, "Even had a little smile on your face." You hear Sam smother a laugh, turning his head away from you so you can't see his face, his shoulders giving him away as they shake slightly.

 

You sigh heavily, standing up from the bed and tossing the burger on the table in front of them. "Shut up, Dean," you murmur, agitated and horny as you walk into the bathroom and slam the door, rolling your eyes theatrically when you hear the brothers share a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many WIPs right now it ain't even funny. And they are all filthy as fuck.
> 
> Also, to those who are reading _New Beginnings_ , I'm currently proofreading the next chapter and making corrections, so I should have it posted within the next few days!


	11. Sam & Dean; Where Actions Have Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean does something stupid and has to face a cruel punishment.
> 
>  **Warnings** : Oral (receiving and giving), unprotected sex (wrap yo shit up, guys!), dirty talk, merciless teasing, creampie eating (no, I ain't talkin' about the dessert), Dom!Reader, sub!Dean, post-sex cuddling, the reader and Sam are meanies, basically this is filthy as fuck for no damn reason and it would probably be easier to list what _isn't_ in here tbh, and you could probably make a drinking game out of how many time the word 'fuck' and variations of show up

"I said I was sorry," Dean groans deeply, body writhing in the armchair you'd forcefully shoved him down into when you had returned to the motel room, the night out at some sleazy ass bar having come to an abrupt end.  
  
You regard him for a few seconds, brows slanted in annoyance as you bend at the waist and place your hands on the armrests of the chair he's slumped in, your mouth mere inches away from his. You could feel his breathing quicken as it fans out warmly over your lips and nose. "You should have thought about that _before_ you flirted with that chick right in front of my face," you reply, your voice low and dangerous, "So _now_ , to teach you a little lesson—you're gonna sit here, be quiet, and watch your little brother fuck me."  
  
Dean's eyes darken with the lust he's so desperately trying to hold back. God, such a voyeurist he was. He'd watched Sam fuck you plenty of times as he remained in charge of the whole thing, even joined in during most of them. But this wasn't for his enjoyment, you remind yourself, this was his punishment. He _did_ deserve it after all.   
  
The three of you were seated at the buzzing bar just hours ago, knocking back shots of whatever was good and drinking beers. Dean, being the notoriously arrogant asshole he was sometimes, _blatantly_ flirted with the busty, red-headed bartender behind the bar just to piss you off, giving her compliments and winking at her with a smirk on candy-pink lips. He thought you'd take him back to the motel and fuck him silly in your jealousy-driven state, remind him _just_ who he belonged to. Boy, was he wrong. You had other ideas, ones that involved the other Winchester brother, the taller, younger one with long hair and glimmering hazel-myriad eyes.  
  
"As your punishment, you're _not_ joining in, you're _not_ going to speak unless spoken to, and you're _definitely_ not going to touch yourself while you watch," you tell him in a heat-bitten voice, your fiery eyes staring right into his as you ask, "Do I make myself clear, Dean?"  
  
"Crystal," he husks, submitting to your words and biting at his bottom lip to stifle a deep, aroused moan, his cock already straining against the thick denim of his jeans.  
  
"Good," you smirk devilishly, teasing a hand up his thigh to palm at his erect flesh through the rough material covering it, just to wind him up even more, listening to the way he swallows audibly and lets his head tip back as he sighs heavily. "If you're good, I _might_ let you come later," you say, grinning darkly when you add, " _Maybe_." You pull your hand away from him and stand up straight, listening with a filthy thrill sizzling up your spine when he whimpers under his breath.   
  
Fuck, you loved being in control.  
  
You turn your back to him and find Sam already looking at you, standing at the foot of the bed with a deep, _dark_ pool of desire in his sparkling eyes. Your steps are slow and light as you pad your way over to him, shucking your jacket and letting your hair loose from its ponytail as you give him a slinky smirk. "Hi, gorgeous," you greet him when you're finally standing before his large frame, your hands sliding up his firm chest over his many unnecessary layers, reaching up until you're able to slide the jacket he's wearing off his broad shoulders.  
  
Sam gives you a toothy grin, snatching up the hem of your shirt and tearing it up your body to rid you of the damn thing. He hums a deep _mmm_ when he sees the way the dark navy lace of your bra is clinging to your breasts and holding them up, the top swells of them exposed and begging for his attention. You bite your bottom lip as you do the same for him, making quick work of his flannel buttons and undershirts until he's bare from the waist up. You drink in all that tanned flesh and hard muscle, years upon years of hunting doing Sam's body good.  
  
You shiver when Sam steps closer to you, closing off the gap that had already been tiny between the two of you, his warm skin brushing up against yours as he slides an index finger under your chin, bringing your head up so your eyes are in line with his. You exhale long and shaky when he brushes his lips against yours, barely enough for you to feel but plenty enough to reel you in like a fish on a hook. You chose to ignore the soft groan you hear coming from behind you, deciding to give Sam your full attention—for now.  
  
"You want me to fuck you?" Sam asks against your mouth, his voice low and sinful as he hands reach between your bodies to release the button of your jeans with long, skillful fingers. "Want me to throw you on this bed and make you scream? Make you beg for my mouth, or maybe my cock?" He smirks, tugging your zipper loose and forcefully tugging your jeans down past your ass and thighs until they fall around your ankles.  
  
You may be in control of _Dean_ right now, but _Sam_? Sam was in control of _you_.  
  
"Fuck yeah, Sam," you breathe out, pressing your forehead against his and breathing in his familiar musk, your hooded eyes looking up into his as you reach for his belt and tug it apart. You're both on the same page, drawing out the stripping process to rile Dean up, to coax him into a frenzy, horny mess in the chair he's currently confined to. You can practically _hear_ the blood flushing into his cock from where you stand.  
  
Sam's big hands come up to cup your face, tilting your head up to meet his lips as you slide a hand into his loosen jeans, his hardening cock pulsing against your fingertips when you slide them over the soft cotton of his briefs. You kiss him back with heady desire, not minding one bit when he gets a little wild and bites into your bottom lip, tugging the swelled flesh back and releasing it with a smug grin.   
  
The next few minutes are filled with tonguey kisses and greedy hands, pulling and tugging and pushing until you're both completely naked and wearing nothing but matching sets of wanton, lust-blown eyes, staring at each other with grinning mouths. You turn to look at Dean, seeing how disheveled he looks, his knuckles ghost white from gripping the arms of the chair so hard, and his apple-green eyes nearly black with smoldering heat as he looks you up and down with slow purpose, like he's trying to etch your naked curves and slopes into his brain. His thighs are spread wide and there's a very obvious bulge at the apex of them, just begging to be released. You like the way he looks, like he's an animal chained and threatening to attack if you come to close. He won't though, not if he wants to come.  
  
"Remember, Dean," you remind him, "No touching yourself."   
  
His only response his a throaty groan and you can't help but smirk, turning back to face Sam, your hands gripping his hips and maneuvering him so Dean has the perfect few for what you're about to do. You gracefully drop to your knees with your head tilted up so you can look into Sam's eyes, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you wrap a hand around his thick shaft. "Such a gorgeous cock, Sam," you purr, leaning forward to flick your tongue across the tip, "Can't wait for you to shove it up inside me, and fuck me good and proper."  
  
Sam smirks down at you, tangling his hands into your hair and pushing you forward just enough so you get his hint. You wrap your lips around him, sucking at his fat cockhead and moaning around him at the feel of the spongy flesh on your tongue, at the taste of him. You hear him suck air in through his gritted teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair, causing your scalp to prickle with heat as you take more inches into your wet, hot mouth until he's well passed your tonsils.  
  
You can hear Dean suck in his own intake of air, the exhale long and shaky. You smirk around Sam, looking up into his eyes as you pull your mouth off him and trail the tip of your tongue along the underside of his spit-slick shaft, focusing on the protruding vein you find running along the length of it. A sizzling heat laps at your lower belly when he tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck roughly with one hand, guiding his cock back into your mouth with the other and rocking his hips smoothly. His holds his bottom lip hostage with his pearly teeth as he watches the way he looks sliding between your stretched lips, your eyes fluttering shut as he fucks your mouth with earnest.  
  
"God, Dean," Sam chuckles, turning his head to look at his big brother, "Thanks for being such an idiot tonight, Y/N's pretty little mouth is such a treat." He can see the fire flame up in Dean's eyes, anger and lust and fucking _want_ wrapped up all in one and shining in his heated gaze. He can also see the how hard Dean is fighting not to flip him off, his right middle finger flinching against the chair arm as he grits his teeth to bite back a snappy comment. "Too bad, really," Sam teases his brother further, letting his head fall back when you moan around his cock, "That you won't get to feel it wrapped around yours tonight."  
  
You pull yourself away from Sam, panting and pulling in deep intakes of oxygen, your cheeks flushed bright pink, your nipples tight, and your clit throbbing. "Not unless he begs for it," you say, turning your head to look at Dean. You smirk sinfully, falling forward on your hands and crawling towards him, sensually and temptingly. You rise to your knees in front of him, slowly trailing your hands up his thighs to tease him. "You were such a bad boy tonight, Dean," you husks, "Say it, tell me you've been a bad boy."  
  
"I—I've been a bad boy," he obeys, circling his hips when you slide your hands up his chest and back down to his belt, teasing the lather but not pulling it free. "I've been such a _bad_ fuckin' boy," he repeats in a more breathy tone, eyes fluttering for a moment when you trail a fingertip along his rigid cock through his jeans, the touch light but heavenly against his throbbing flesh. "Bad, bad, _bad_ ," he gasps, thighs twitching when you start to palm him.  
  
"That's right, Dean," you smile lustrously, pulling your hands away from him and standing to your feet, watching the way his face fills with horror and disappointment, "And bad boys get punished when they misbehave." You turn away and make your way back over to Sam without another word, popping a kiss to his lips before falling down onto the bed with a breathy, sexy little giggle and a lip bite as you watch Sam crawl towards you, a deep hunger in his eyes and a playful smirk on his lips.  
  
You pull yourself up the bed until your head is laid on the pillows at the top, your legs falling open as Sam grows closer and closer. You hum when he runs his roughened hands up your inner thighs, his body falling so he’s splayed on his stomach on the bed, his head between your legs. "Fuckin' eat me, Sam," you moan, "Just eat me up." Sam winks up at you, spreading your thighs as wide as they'll go and positioning you so Dean can see him lean in and run his tongue through your slick folds, so he can see how wet you've become.  
  
You squeeze at your chest with one hand and fist Sam's soft hair in the other, tweaking and pulling at your nipples as you moan and gasps in pleasure. You prop yourself up on an elbow, looking down to watch Sam roll his glistening tongue around your clit, your eyes eventually moving to meet Dean's. He looks like an utter mess, rocking his hips into nothing and biting his lip so hard it's blood red when he finally releases it. "Fuck yeah, Sam," you pant, gaze still locked on Dean's, "Suck me just like that."   
  
You feel so goddamn sexy in this moment, with one brother between your thighs and the other begging for you with just his eyes, begging for you to put him out of his misery. You won't though, not _yet_ anyway. He needs to stew a bit, get right on the edge so he's really begging for his release, vulnerable and needy for you.  
  
Sam's a man hungered between your legs, mouth almost covering you completely as he tongues through your folds, teasing your slick hole before pulling up to give some skillful love to your swollen bundle of nerves. He's pulling all sorts of sounds from you, ones Dean probably thinks you're exaggerating just to tease him, but fuck, you're _definitely_ not. And you're coming hard and long in a matter a minutes, clamping your thighs shut around Sam's head uncontrollably and tossing yourself back on the bed, neck elongated when you throw your head back and scream with your hands clutching the sheets so tight your knuckles crack under the pressure.  
  
Once you're reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess, you gently push Sam away and climb to your knees, crawling towards to the foot of the bed and positions yourself on all fours, your fingers wrapped around the edge of the mattress. You look back over your shoulder to see Sam kneeing his way up behind you, his chest and neck are glistening with sweat, your mouth watering at the thought of licking it all off. "Fuck me, Sam," you say as you roll your hips and shake your ass, "Wanna feel that beautiful cock fill me up and split me open. C'mon, fuckin' give it to me."  
  
You actually shout when Sam shoves himself all the way inside you with one quick thrust, one hand on your hip to hold you steady as he gives you every inch, stretching you and sliding between your walls deliciously. You look forward, heavily lidded eyes meeting Dean's as your mouth falls open and you release keening whimpers, hips jerking reflexively when Sam bumps against your cervix. _Fuck, he's deep._ "Fuckin' move already," you gasp, rocking back into his hips even though he has no more cock to give.  
  
Sam drapes himself over your back, chest pressed against you and lips against your ear. "Don't tell me what to do," he rallies playfully, pulling his hips back just an inch and thrusting back forward to tease you, his bigs hands braced on the mattress so he's got the right leverage. "God, Y/N, look how wrecked we've made Dean," he husks in your ear, both of you looking at a red-cheeked, hip-rocking, lip-biting Dean, "He wishes it was _him_ fucking you right now, wishes it was _his_ cock inside your tight pussy instead of mine."  
  
"Fuck yeah he does," you smirk at Dean, moaning through it when Sam starts to _really_ fuck you, long, quick strokes that have your tits moving with the force. "He's so good, Dean," you tell him, "Sam feels so good inside me." You see the way Dean lets his head fall back, his throat bobbing as he swallows, trying to control himself and calm to painful throbbing in his pants. "You like this don't you, Dean?" You moan, "You like watching me get fucked by someone else, don't you?"  
  
"Fuck yes," Dean answers as he meets your eyes again, voice so desperate and hoarse that you nearly come.   
  
"Bet you—oh _fuck_!" You cry when Sam pummels against your sweet spot over and over again, his hand between your thighs to rub your clit quickly. "Bet you—you wish you could touch yourself," you talk to Dean in a breathy voice, managing around your moans and gasps, "Bet you're so fucking hard right now it hurts. Mmm, love your cock, Dean, fuckin'—fuck!"  
  
You're so close, teetering on the edge, rearing back against Sam every time he thrusts forward, his deep moans feeling your ears, Dean's pained groans, too. Your screams and shouts mingle with their noises, the room growing ten times hotter as you feel the heat lap at your insides and chill your outsides, goosebumps pricking your skin as you pant and whine and whimper. You're coming before you know it, upper body falling forward onto the bed as Sam drives into you, hands on your hips to pull you back on his throbbing cock, pounding you through your release as his own surges through him, emptying his big, hot load inside you, coating your inner walls in thick spurts so warm you hum in appreciation.  
  
When you pull yourself back up and open your eyes to look at Dean, you see it. That filthy, _dark_ hunger in his eyes as he watches the two of you ride out your highs, his lips parted as he pants through them. You bite your bottom lip and beckon him over with your index finger, gasping when Sam gently pulls out of you. Dean obeys immediately, quickly standing to his feet and walking towards you. "Clothes off," you bite out, the need for him thick in your veins. He's naked in no time flat, cock red at the tip and looking painfully hard. "On the bed, on your back," you say, the dominance in you coming back.  
  
Dean crawls onto the bed and falls beside Sam, who’s on his back, panting and palming his spent cock. "I want you to clean me up," you tell Dean, crawling towards him and throwing your leg over his head, your flushed, swollen pussy just inches away from his mouth, "Then you're gonna beg me to ride your cock."  
  
Dean moans deep and guttural beneath you, immediately grabbing your hips and roughly pulling your down onto his face, tongue sliding between your used folds and lapping at the slickness his finds there, a mix and you and Sam. You throw your head back and brace your hands on the headboard in front of you, rolling your hips and riding Dean's face, your cunt slip-sliding against his open mouth, eager to get his fill and make you moan.   
  
You hear Sam curse under his breath, eyes watching intently. You smirk and pull yourself off Dean's face, moving down until you're straddling his strong thighs, the thickness of them delicious under your ass. He hisses sharply when you wrap your hands around his cock, precome oozing from the slit as you pump him sinfully slow. "Beg for me, Dean," you purr, eyes locked on his, his swollen, plush lips glistening with your wetness, "Beg like a good boy."  
  
"Please!" He gasps, "Ride my fuckin' cock, please, baby! M'so fuckin' hard, so hard for you, Y/N, only you. _Please_."  
  
You bite your bottom lip, pulling up and scootching forward until you're hovering over his hard flesh, the both of you gasping when you slide down onto him, paced and meticulous until you're seated all the way in his lap. Dean whimpers, his hands reaching out to hold your hips so hard you're sure you'll have bruises. You lean over him, pressing your lips to his for a sweet kiss before bracing your hands beside his head and fucking him fast.  
  
"This is what you wanted, wasn't it, baby?" You ask him, eyes looking down into his as you expertly pull your hips up and down quickly, "Wanted me to get good and pissed, and ride your cock, to remind you that you're mine."  
  
"Fuck yes," Dean moans, his hands greedily grabbing your ass to help guide you. He look so good beneath you, cheeks flushed and sweat building up on his brow, neck, and chest, his eyes filled with euphoric bliss as they look up into yours, deep with longing and desire.  
  
"You belong to me, don't you, Dean?" You ask him in a rasped voice, fighting back your own moans, "Your cock, your lips, your hands—it's all _mine_ , isn't it?"  
  
"Ah! F-Fuck yeah, baby," he answers, bucking up into you when you pull up, "Gonna fill you the fuck up, gonna come so fuckin' hard for you, baby girl."  
  
You hum approvingly, pressing your hands down into his chest and riding him harder, the slap of skin meeting skin sinful and filthy. "That's right, Dean," you moan, "C'mon, baby, come for me. Show me who you belong to like a _good_ _boy_."  
  
Dean cries out brokenly, the force of his orgasm causing him to shoot up into a sitting position, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close as he empties deep inside you, his face buried between the sweat-slick valley between your heaving breasts. You cry with him, popping your hips back and forth quickly to milk his cock and to prolong his release, your hands buried in his hair to hold him close. You let your head fall back, your walls contracting around his throbbing length as you come with him. You feel his fingers dig into the flesh of your back, his mouth open against your chest as he moans over and over again, hips jerking beneath you as he rides the waves crashing around inside him.  
  
You stay in his lap once you've both come back to earth, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he softens inside you, holding him close as you try to regain control of your breathing. You can feel your skin slide against his, the sweat built up so much on both of your bodies. "You did so good, baby," you coo in his ear, "Such a good boy for me, Dean." He whimpers into crook of your neck, kissing it with gentle lips as his hands move up and down your back in a comforting manner.  
  
You cup his cheeks, pulling his back to meet his hooded eyes for a few seconds before giving him a slow, gentle kiss, your tongues lazily playing together for what feels like forever. Sam's comment of "that was so fuckin' hot" is what eventually breaks the kiss, both you and Dean turning your heads to look at him and chuckle lightly.   
  
You peck Dean's lips one more time before pulling off his cock and out of his lap, falling between him and Sam. You turn on your side towards Dean, dragging him down so his face is nuzzled in your chest again, your hand combing through his cropped hair and your leg thrown over his hip to pull him in close, giving him a good cuddle. You sigh when Sam flicks off the lamp, tosses the blankets over all three of you, and huddles up against your back, his nose pressed against the back of your neck as he throws a protective arm over both you and Dean. The darkness and silence is comfortable, the three of you just breathing together and allowing sleep to slowly creep in.  
  
"I like being your good boy," Dean murmurs into your chest, his voice deep and ragged with exhaustion, his mouth moving up to rest against your throat and humming in contentment.  
  
You smile lazily, petting through his hair and snuggling him closer. "Good," you whisper before you let sleep take you, pressed between two _very_ naked and _very_ satisfied men.


	12. Sam; Inch On In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alley fuck. Need I say more?

You practically sob your praises. The cock pounding into you from behind is the biggest you've ever had before, deliciously dragging against your sloppy wet walls and hitting all the right spots with an accuracy that threatened to kill you. Attached to it was a man you didn't even know, one who'd walked into the bar looking sheepish but grew purposeful when his eyes landed on you from across the way.

"Sam," you remember him saying, a boyishly sexy grin dimpling his cheeks. He'd offered to buy you a drink, but you offered him something else. You guided him through the bar, out the back door, and into the alley out back that was shadowed in darkness and visible to only those who ventured down it.

You were pressed up against brick before you had time to tell him your own name, the sentiment melting against his lips as he tightly pressed them against yours. Foreplay wasn't really needed or cared for. After all, you'd practically turned into Niagara Falls when Sam had entered the bar looking like a fucking underwear model.

Minimal undressing and a quick turn later, Sam had his cock pressed all the way inside you, one big hand on your hip and the other splayed between your shoulder blades to keep your cheek pressed against the brick in front of you. A bite of pain tinged across your skin with every unearthly strong thrust of his hips, adding to the fire that burned between your thighs with every push in and pull back.

Sam did the whole back alley fuck thing the justice it deserved—rough and relentless, getting you both where you needed to be in the filthiest, most raw way imaginable. It was the dirtiest but sexiest thing you'd ever done. You came in no time, body singing for Sam as he fucked you through it and didn't imagine stopping until he'd wrung out every ounce of pleasure he could from you.

When it became to much for your jelly-turned legs, Sam was there, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to bring you back against his chest. In this position, his mouth was settled right up against your ear, able to whisper pure filth that you'd be getting yourself off to for the rest of your life. 

He praised you, fucked you, and held you in ways no man had before. It wasn't hard to decide that you'd be ruined for other men. One's whose cocks weren't has big, whose mouths weren't as magical, whose hands weren't as steady, and whose names weren't as rememberable. 

When he asks for your number after everything's said and done—and your clothes are back in their proper place—you tell him that if he buys you a drink, maybe you'll let him have it. You're surprised when a blush colors his cheeks in the low lights of the alley, a half-grin on his lips.

"I can do that," he says.


	13. Palace o'Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean find yourselves in a peculiar situation, leading to even peculiar chain of events. (Sex. It's sex.)
> 
> This one's long af lol as if you mind. I wrote it two years ago and decided to finally share. Enjoy!

“Um … Dean?” You say in a confused tone when you walk into the cheap hotel room.

“Yeah?” You hear him call out, shuffling through the door behind you carrying all the bags over his shoulders.

“Did you ask for the honeymoon suite or something?” You ask, eyes focused on the decor surrounding you.

“What? Of course n—oh my god.”

You both give the room a good once over. The walls are painted a deep red, the large windows are covered with gaudy black velvet curtains, and there’s a large heart-shaped bed against the farthest wall that’s covered in red satin bedcovers.

“This is absolutely hideous,” you comment in a monotone voice, cringing at how the dimmed lights make the room look even cheaper than it already had been.

“The guy said there was only one room left,” Dean huffs in agitation, gritting his teeth as he adds, “He didn’t tell me it was Dracula’s friggin’ love dungeon!”

“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?” You question him. “This is the only place we saw with vacancy for miles!” You look around the room again before saying, “And there’s only one bed!”

“Guess we’ll just have to make do,” Dean shrugs, dropping the duffles to the floor with a loud thud. “We’ve shared a bed before,” he reminds you, making you scoff and roll your eyes, because you definitely don’t need to be reminded of the time Dean’s morning wood nearly bruised your asscheek.

You groan dramatically, walking over to the bed and flopping down like an immature little kid. “But I don’t wan—” You stop speaking entirely when you turn over onto your back and see the ceiling, your reflection staring right back at you. “For the love of God!” You exclaim, “There’s a fuckin’ mirror on the ceiling right above the bed!”

“It gets worse!” You hear Dean shout, his voice now much farther away than before. You sit up and see him coming out of the bathroom, looking annoyed beyond belief and completely over it. “There’s no shower,” he tells you, “Only a heart-shaped tub.”

“Great!” You cry sarcastically. “As if this room didn’t already make me want to vomit.”

Just as Dean goes in to add his own stream of complaints, there’s a heavy knock on the door. “Who the fuck could that possibly be?” He grumbles, stomping over to the door with his heavy booted feet and swinging it open. “What?” He growls to the young man he finds standing on the other side with a cart full of stuff.

“Um … h-hi,” the guy stammers nervously when he sees Dean’s dangerously pissed off expression, “My name’s Dave and I—I brought your complementary honeymoon-suite room service.”

Dean’s anger slowly melts away as he asks, “Complementary? As in … free?” You can’t help but roll your eyes and hold back a loud laugh, because Dean’s such a cheapskate.

“Yes, sir,” the boy replies, “You get free room service the entire time you and your wife stay here.” You and Dean both cringe at the young boy’s usage of the word wife in his sentence, marriage being something neither one of you particularly fancy—you two aren’t even together in a romantic way for crying out loud. “You can pick whatever you’d like from the room service menu,” the boy adds, “And we’ll even throw in some free … um … lovers’ items.”

“Lovers’ items?!” You squawk, jumping up from the bed to hurriedly stand beside Dean to ask the boy, “What do you mean by _‘lovers’ items’_?”

“Well, ma'am,” he smiles nervously, growing flustered as he looks into your eyes, “Those who stay in the honeymoon suite are allowed to look through our booklet of various—”

“Sex toys?!” Dean interrupts him, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open.

“Uh, essentially,” the young boy laughs awkwardly, “There’s a huge array of different items for you lovebirds to pick from.”

“Hotels do that?” You question, completely flabbergasted.

“Well, we’re a different type of hotel, ma'am,” he tells you, “You must have seen our sign out front, it’s in big, red neon letters.”

“Oh, God,” you and Dean say at the same time, both scrambling over to one the velvet-covered windows and throwing the curtain open. “Palace … O’ _Pleasure_?” Dean reads the flashing sign outside in a slow, confused tone. “I sure as hell did _not_ see that!” He exclaims.

“Way to go, Dean!” You shout as you shove at his shoulder, “You dragged me into a _sex house_!”

“How was I supposed to know this was some kinky ass hotel?!” He shouts back.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe ask someone before you purchase a room for _five fucking days_!”

“I would have, but you kept saying ‘Dean, I’m _tired_. Dean, my _ass_ is numb. Dean, just find a place already. Dean! Dean! _Dean!_ ’”

“Well, ex-cuuuse me! If you had listened to me in the first place, and stopped two states over, we wouldn’t be stuck in some sleazy ass sex pit!“ 

A subtle clearing of the throat sounds echoes in the room. “What?!” You and Dean shout as you whip around the face Dave again, who’s still standing at the open door with a bewildered expression on his face.

“D-Do you still want your complementary r-room service?” He asks in a shy way, waving a hand over the cart beside him.

“No!" 

” _Yes!_ “

You and Dean quickly turn and glare at each other, nostrils flared and chests heaving as anger boils up inside the two of you, fists clenched at your sides and eyes filled with burning heat. You growl and shove past him, walking to the door and grabbing the cart, wheeling it in and forcefully slamming the door in Dave’s face. "O-Okay, have a nice night!” You hear him shout through the door before the sound of him quickly scurrying away.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” you murmur under your breath, grabbing your duffle and rummaging through it to find your pajamas and toiletry bag. “Don’t talk to me right now,” you growl at Dean when you hear him say your name, ignoring him completely as you disappear into the bathroom and slam the door the same way you had the other one.

“Quit slammin’ the goddamn doors!” Dean shouts angrily, to which you just roll your eyes and grumble _I’ll slam whatever goddamn doors I see fit_. You roll them even harder when you see that damn tub Dean told you about, all shiny red plastic and godawful gold fixtures.

You sluggishly strip to pull on your nightclothes, wash your face, brush your teeth, and anything else you can think of—trying to take as long as possible so you don’t have to face Dean. You eventually flick off the bathroom light and venture back into the bedroom, finding him standing over the room service cart, stuffing chocolate-covered strawberries into his mouth and drinking chilled champagne straight from the bottle. You don’t say a word to him as you pull back the satin bed covers and climb into the bed, flicking off the lamp on your side before turning over with your back to Dean.

“Are you gonna ignore me for the rest of the night?” You hear him ask, his words muffled by a mouthful of chocolatey fruit. You don’t bother answering him, or even so much as bat an eyelash. Annoyance is all you feel when the bed dips behind you, Dean just a few inches away from you now. “C'mon, Y/N,” he says in a low voice, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry we’re stuck in this kink lair and … I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

You huff as you turn over to face him, meeting his downturned eyes and frowning mouth. Damn it, you couldn’t ever stay mad at him for long. “No, I’m sorry,” you tell him with a deep sigh, “I overreacted.”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles lightly, “You do that a lot.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you laugh as you shove at his chest, only to feel him grab your wrist and quickly roll on top of you. “Don’t you dare,” you giggle when you feel his free hand tickle one of your sides lightly, his green eyes filled with a playful twinkle as they look down into yours. “I will kick your ass!” You warn him when you feel his fingertips dig into your ribs dangerously, your body jerking under him as wiggles them against you quickly. “D-Dean, stop!” You laugh uncontrollably, trying to shove his weight off of you to no avail, his legs tangling around yours through the satin covers and his shoulder pressing into yours so you’re pinned under him, his fingers tickling you mercilessly.

“Don’t piss the bed,” Dean teases as you laugh like crazy, wiggling like a wild buck beneath him as his fingertips dig into your flesh repeatedly while he laughs with you. He continues his assault for a few more seconds before finally stopping, his weight still on top of you as you breath raggedly.

“You’re such an ass,” you pant through a smile, slapping his shoulder. You gaze up into his eyes, seeing a different look you’d only seen from him when he was chatting up women in shoddy bars. You’re both breathing heavy, your chest pressed together tightly and your legs sliding along one another’s through smooth satin. 

“What?” You question in a small voice, biting your bottom lip as he looks into your eyes, your cheeks flushing red as he continues to regard you closely.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers huskily, his gaze flitting down to your mouth where your teeth have sunk down into your plump bottom lip.

“Why not?” You whisper back, your lower belly warming when you realize just how close you are to him right now.

“Because,” he says, “It makes me wanna kiss you silly.”

Your chest grows tight, your lips parting in a silent gasp at his confession. He’d never said anything like that to you before—sure, he’d made some sly comments and suggestive remarks before, but they’d only ever been said in a joking manner. But now, as you look up into his eyes and notice the way his face is set in a serious expression, you know he’s not joking this time. 

“So why don’t you then?” You asks with wavering confidence, your voice breathy and low.

Dean’s eyes darken in response, his lips parting as if he wants to say something — but he doesn’t. He simply leans into you and firmly presses his lips to yours, making you gasp against his mouth, your lips parting instantly when he licks along your upper one, begging for entrance and sighing when he slides his tongue into your mouth. You moan when you taste the sweetness of his tongue as it tussles with yours, the sugary taste of chocolate and strawberries mixing with the minty flavor of your toothpaste—making for a toe-tingling combination.

Your back arches and your hips flex under his weight, your body pressing up into his even more as he rolls his tongue around yours and moans into your mouth. You melt at the sound, giving him one of your own as he trails his big hands up your sides, his fingertips pressing into the flesh just under your breasts. Your hands wrap around his neck, your fingernails scratching at the nape as you suck on his tongue, the action making him grind his hips down into yours. You whine pathetically when he pulls his mouth away, an impish grin on his face as he slowly moves down your body, his hands pulling the covers away from your body and sliding up your torso over your shirt.

“Dean,” you choke out, arousal coursing so thick through your veins as you watch him with heavily lidded eyes. He just smiles in reply, pushing your shirt up until your bare chest is revealed to him, his green eyes growing dark and stormy as he observes your breasts, his tongue sliding along his plush bottom lip. You keen when Dean cups your tender flesh with his calloused hands, pressing your heaving tits together as he leans into tease one of your nipples with the tip of his sinful tongue. He’s slowly turning you into a pool of heady desire, his jade eyes looking up into yours as he lavishes your breasts in attention you didn’t even know you needed.

“Are you sensitive here?” He asks in a deep voice when he notices how responsive you’re being and how high-pitched your moans are. You swallow thickly as you nod slowly, your hands sliding into his hair and your eyes rolling as he sucks a pert nipple into his mouth. Dean’s chuckle vibrates against your flesh, making you smile and look down at him, your lips parting as you release breathy little moans. “What about … here?” He husks against your breast, one of his hands traveling down your body until it’s between your thighs, the heel of his palm pressing against you through your shorts.

“Quit being a goddamn tease, Dean,” you groan, arching up into his touch as your head falls back into a satiny pillow. Your cheeks grow furiously warm when you look up at the ceiling, the image of you and Dean reflecting in the mirror attached to it. “Holy fuck,” you chuckle breathlessly, “I totally forgot about that.” Dean cranes his neck, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he looks up, a wicked grin appearing on his face when he sees the two of you.

“Damn,” he smirks as he looks back down at you, “I bet you a million bucks my ass is gonna look phenomenal in that mirror.” You scoff as you roll your eyes, biting back a smile as you push his face away from you. “Don’t act like you don’t think my ass is great,” Dean teases, rolling off you to lay on his side beside you with his head propped up on his hand, “I’ve caught you checkin’ me out multiple times.”

“In your dreams maybe,” you laugh as you turn your head to look at him, “I’ve caught you checkin’ out my ass way more than I do yours.”

Dean grins deeply, his eyes shining in the dim light of the room. “Okay,” he shrugs, “You got me there, I ain’t gonna deny it, sweetheart. You’ve got a sexy ass.” You grow flustered by his comment. “Especially when you wear those jeans—you know, the tight ones with all the rhinestones on the back pockets? Yeah, those make your ass look downright edible,” he smirks devilishly as he trails his hand down your exposed stomach, making your breathing hitch. “There was this one time, when you were wearing them on a hunt, that I got all distracted,” he tells you, his voice a deep rumble that makes your whole body grow hot, “Couldn’t help but stare at you every time you would bend over. God, I got so fuckin’ hard.”

“No you didn’t,” you giggle girlishly as you turn on your side to face him completely, your cheeks redder than a tomato and your stomach feeling with fluttery butterflies.

“Oh, I did,” he chuckles, running a slow hand up your side, “I was rock hard the entire time.”

“Are you hard now?” You whisper sensuously, trailing your fingertips up his thigh to tease him.

“As a goddamn diamond,” he whispers back, leaning towards you to brush his lips over yours, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. “What are you gonna do about it?” He breathes against your mouth.

“Whatever you want me to do, Dean,” you tell him, throwing a leg over his hip and pressing yourself up against him, rocking your hips gently. “I could wrap my lips around you, suck you good and clean,” you breath into his lips, smirking when he hums approvingly, “Or, I could straddle these sexy hips of yours and ride you like a fuckin’ stallion,” you suggest in a filthy whisper, “I’ll let you decide.”

“God, Y/N,” Dean husks, giving you a slow kiss before countering with, “I could think of a few things I wanna do to you.”

“Like what?” You ask, nibbling at his lips and rolling your body against his.

“Well first,” he smirks, sliding his hand down your back until he’s got a handful of your ass, “I’d tear these flimsy little shorts off you, bury my face between your thighs, and make you come a couple times.” You curse under your breath, growing wetter with every word that leaves his mouth. “Then I’d slide up this sexy body of yours and shove my cock inside you, fuck you nice and deep until you’re screamin’ and beggin’ for more,” he purrs, rolling his hips into yours, “I’d rock your fuckin’ world, sweetheart.”

“Jesus Christ,” you chuckle breathlessly, “I didn’t think you’d say something that goddamn filthy.”

“I’d also suck these pretty tits of yours while I do it,” he adds as he squeezes one roughly, completely ignoring your comment. “I’d give you so much pleasure, princess,” he breathes out, trailing his mouth down your jawline, “I’d fuck you so damn good, baby girl, show you what a real man’s like. I’d worship your body, mark it up, kiss and lick it all over, sink my teeth into it. Fuck, I would treat it right, baby.”

“Dean,” you whimper, “God, Dean, fuckin’ do it.”

Dean growls, pushing you onto your back using his weight and attacking your mouth with his. It’s all tongue and teeth, heady with desperate need as Dean grinds his hips between your thighs, his hands grabbing at your sides and his body completely dominating yours. You’re a panting mess when he pulls back and sits up on his knees, your eyes clouded with lust as you watch him tear off his shirt, miles of tan skin and toned muscle coming into your line of vision. You bite your bottom lip as he unbuckles his belt, the sound of leather meeting metal making your cunt throb, your eyes sliding up to meet his. You trail your hands down your body, hooking your thumbs into your shorts and panties, pushing them down your thighs as Dean licks at his bottom lip, watching you with fiery green eyes.

The air is thick and humid with sexual energy, buzzing around the room as you and Dean undress yourselves, baring your bodies to their most vulnerable and natural states. You can feel how wet you are, how fucking needy you are for Dean and how much you want him, your blood running hot with desire as you look at him in all his naked glory. You feel comfortable with him seeing you like this, naked and wanton, no hesitation about it or second guessing of yourself. “Need you, Dean,” you tell him, breathless as you speak, “Need your mouth, need it all, baby.”

“Fuck,” Dean curses, crawling over you to get to your lips, kissing you filthy and deep. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, around his neck, running over his shoulders, down his arms, up his back, down again to grab his ass—which does look pretty damn phenomenal in the mirror above you. “Told ya,” Dean husks as he slides down your body, his mouth open and wet as he goes. You spread your legs for him, fisting the satin sheets under you as you watch him descend. A startled gasp leaves you when brings he brings a heavy hand down against one of your inner thighs, a sweet sting buzzing under your skin that makes you mewl and rock your hips.

Dean doesn’t even take the time to tease you, he just dives nose-first into you, holding your thighs open wide as he sucks, licks, and fucks you with his mouth. “Fuck yes!” You call out, not caring how loud you’re being—considering what kind of hotel you’re in right now. “God, Dean, just like that,” you moan as you toss your head back, “Fuck, that feels good.” Dean hums against you, sliding his tongue into your sopping pussy and tasting the slick that’s pouring out of you, his nose pressed against your clit in such a vulgar fashion. 

Your vision blurs when Dean replaces his tongue with two of his thick fingers, pushing them inside and fucking you quickly. You don’t even possess the ability to be embarrassed by the filthy squelch you hear coming from between your thighs, too delirious and lightheaded from the way Dean’s talented fingers are hitting all the right spots inside you to even care. “You’re so fuckin’ wet right now,” he growls against your hip, “Can’t wait to fill you up with my cock.” You keen high in your throat, your body writhing in pleasure, your hips jerking uncontrollably and your mind slowly melting away until it’s filled with nothing but Dean. “Gonna fuck this tight little pussy better than any man ever has before,” he tells you, “Gonna make that sweet mouth scream my name over and over again.”

“Yes, Dean! Fuck yes!” You cry, fisting the pillow under your head and rocking down into his fingers, teetering on the very precipice of release. “I’m gonna come, Dean,” you sob in pleasure, “Gonna come just for you—oh fuck, I’m gonna come!” There’s no controlling your words, every syllable that leaves your mouth just a result of the mess of desire Dean’s turned you into. He leans in, quickly flicking his tongue across your clit as he fingers speed up inside you, making your body burn hot all over. You come with a long moan, your hands fisted in his hair as your body jerks and arches, your cunt spasming around Dean’s fingers and your bundle of nerves throbbing against the flat of his tongue.

Dean doesn’t even give you ample time to recover before he’s crawling up your trembling body, shoving his cock inside you to the hilt and sliding his soaked fingers into your mouth. You scream around the digits as you suck them clean of your wetness, the stretch of Dean inside you making your eyes cross in bliss and your toes curl. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he moans, finding a pace that’s got him so deep inside you every time he pushes in. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wrapping his hand around your throat and sliding it up under your chin. “Watch the way I fuck you,” he demands in your ear, “Look up and watch me, Y/N.”

You do as he says, looking up into the mirror above you, your breathing catching in your throat at the sight of Dean fuckin’ Winchester on top of you. His back is glistening with sweat, every muscle rippling under his sun-kissed skin as he moves above you, his glorious ass flexing as he pounds into you. When you look at your own face, you can see the lust that’s flashing in your eyes and the burning redness that’s coloring your cheeks, your hair a crazy mess as it falls over that satin beneath your head—it’s erotic and satisfying to see, and knowing that Dean’s the one who made you look like this only intensifies it. “God, yes,” you pant, running your hands down his back, your fingernails biting into his skin, decorating it with red streaks that look so good in the mirror.

Dean growls in pleasure as his mouth trails down your neck, his tongue sliding along your slick skin as he pistons his hips. He lines your throat with open-mouth kisses, nibbling at the areas that make you keen high in your throat and whimper his name like a prayer. Your heels dig into the back of his thighs just under his ass, your hips flexing up into his to spur him on. “Fuck, this feels so good,” he husks against your collarbone, chuckling deeply as he says, “If I’d known you felt this damn good, I woulda fucked you years ago.”

You chuckle with him, gasping through a little smile as his cock presses against your  sweet spot. “Had I known you could fuck like this, I would have let you,” you tell him, your voice raspy and coated in lust. He pulls his head up to look down at you, the sexiest look filling his glazed over eyes as he smirks, his tongue sliding along his upper teeth. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous, Dean,” you moan, trailing your hands over his shoulders until your fingers are carding through his cropped hair, the ends sticking out in all directions making him look even sexier than he already was.

“I was about to say the same thing about you,” he grins, slowing his hips until he’s just grinding his pelvis into yours, “So, answer me this; how do we look in that mirror?”

“Like a fuckin’ dream,” you grin back, stretching yourself out leisurely on the satin underneath you. “You wanna see for yourself?” You ask, running your hands down his chest, outlining the anti-possession tattoo you find there with your index finger as your eyes meet his.

“Hell yes,” he sighs, slowly pulling himself out and rolling over onto his back beside you. A devious smirk settles on your lips as you climb up on your knees and toss a leg over his lap with your back to him, throwing him a playful wink over your shoulder. “Hell yes,” he repeats, grabbing your ass and giving you tight squeezes, “I fuckin’ love reverse cowgirl.”

“Well, you’re in luck then,” you moan as you reach between your legs and slide down his cock, “This just happens to be my second favorite position.”

“Shit,” Dean groans, looking up into the mirror as he asks, “What’s your first?”

“Mmm,” you hum as you pop your hips above him, a fleeting smile on your lips as you say, “Doggy style. This position, though, is just a great way to transition into it later on.”

Dean’s a moaning mess beneath you, his gaze flitting between watching the way you slide down on to him to the way your body looks in the mirror above the bed. “Well,” he husks, voice slightly strained, “Let’s pray I make it that far … because just watching you like this already has my balls tightening up.”

You laugh a sexy little laugh, twirling your hips in a slow and tantalizing way just to show yourself off to Dean. “I’ll go slow then,” you smirk over your shoulder, falling forward and pressing your hands flat on bed between Dean’s spread knees to get some good leverage as you pull up off his lap. You gasp sharply when Dean brings a hand down on your ass, a heavy, strong, hot hand that makes you thrust down onto him and hum deeply as your skin tingles and warms where he’d slapped you. “More,” you whimper, bowing your back and rocking your hips, pushing your ass out him as a silent plea. 

“At this rate; I’m gonna come quicker than a damn teenager,” Dean chuckles, sliding his rough-skinned palm over your assaulted flesh, making your legs quiver at his sides as you keen. “You’re so sexy, Y/N,” he husks, grinning as he gives your other cheek a hearty slap, “You moan so goddamn beautiful when I spank this pretty ass of yours.”

The scorching, throbbing pain-pleasure and Dean’s thick cock still stretching you deliciously sends you into a spiraling orgasm, one that’s unexpected and makes your hips pop back and forth uncontrollably. “Fuck yes!” You cry, sliding a hand between your thighs to quickly rub your clit, drawing out the release that’s already long and hard. Dean watches the whole thing, mesmerized by the way your body moves both in front of his eyes and in the mirror above him. 

It’s a new level of intimacy he’s never experienced with anyone before; he’s known you for years—since you were both just the kids of hunter parents—teenagers who didn’t get a true chance at childhood. You’d seen all kinds of sides of each other over the years, but this was one Dean never thought he’d see from you. You’re riding his cock better than any woman had before, coming for him and begging him to spank you as you release some of the most breathtaking and cock-throbbing sounds he’s ever had the pleasure of hearing—and it makes him want to fuck the breath right from your lungs.

He growls as he sits up and pushes you forward onto bed, your shoulders pressed down into the mattress and your ass up in the air as he pounds into you from behind. “Yes, Dean! God, yes, fuck me!” You cry, your hands gripping at the silky smooth sheets as you moan and beg and gasp, completely carefree and open before Dean–beautiful and sexy and mouthwatering, Dean thinks as he drives into you quickly. You mewl when he fists a hand into your hair and pulls your head back, his mouth attacking your neck in bites and tongue-filled attention as he presses his back down against the slope of your back.

“So fuckin’ hot,” he growls into your flesh, snapping his hips forward roughly, burying himself deep within your dripping cunt, your walls fluttering around his cock in the most spine-tingling way he’s ever felt. He shoves his free hand between your widely spread thighs, sliding his fingers around your clit quickly. “Wanna feel you come again, baby,” he murmurs against your slick neck, “Want you to come all over my fuckin’ cock while I fill you up with my load.”

You scream out, the shout long and broken as you come for the third time–a rare occurrence for you with any guy before Dean. You tremble under him, this release the most intense of them all, your whole body moving with the force of it as you cry out colorful curses and praises of Dean’s cock. You’re so far gone, your brain mush in your skull and focused on nothing but the pleasure that’s coursing through you like fiery lava, sparks of snapping heat exploding under your skin as Dean fucks you through it, not stopping until you’re whimpering and he’s coated your tight walls in hot come.

“Goddamn,” he gasps, his mouth open and panting against your shoulder as he slowly reins his hips to a stop, grinding against your reddened ass to milk all the pleasure he can. You hum under him, completely sated and boneless beneath his weight. A part of you is disappointed when he gently pulls out and rolls off you, dropping onto his back beside you and panting harshly—you didn’t want it to end. 

You gather what strength your rubbery limbs can muster, pushing yourself up and flipping over to drop down beside Dean on your back. You’re both looking up into the mirror, mouths parted as you breath heavily and examine your fucked-out bodies, the weight of what you just did settling in your bones. “Wow,” is all you can find to say, meeting Dean’s eyes in the reflection warily.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “… wow.”

There’s a few beats of slightly comfortable, slightly awkward silence. “I guess the power of the Palace O'Pleasure got to us,” you finally say, pursing your lips and looking away from Dean’s eyes.

“Nah,” you hear him say in a quiet voice, running his knuckles over your hip affectionately, “That was all you.”

You turn your head to look at him, seeing a lazy grin on his face as he looks back at you. Your already flushed cheeks grow redder under his gaze, your teeth sinking down into your bottom lip in efforts to bite back a stupid, dopey smile. You roll toward him, laying on your stomach with half your body on top his, your leg tangle around one of his as you lay your head on his shoulder and your hand on his chest. “I guess I should bite my lip around you all the time if it means you–how’d you put it? ‘Rock my fuckin’ world’?”

Dean tosses his head back and lets out a boisterous laugh, his elongated neck just begging to be kissed all over—so you do. You chuckle as you press your lips into the skin just under his chiseled jawline, playfully biting at it as he slides his hand down your back. “You’re just askin’ for trouble, darlin’,” he drawls in an exaggerated southern accent, stealthily rolling over on top of you and attacking your neck and chest with silly kisses, rubbing his five o'clock shadow into your skin to tickle you.  
  
“Oh!” You laugh rambunctiously, “Are we role-playing now? Are you the big, strong cowboy hero and I’m the troublesome outlaw?”  
  
“We can do anything you’d like, ma'am,” he husks, laying the accent on even thicker than before, his green eyes sparkling with uninhibited humor as they look down into yours. “I reckon we could play cops and robbers,” he chuckles, voice growing dark and sexy as he adds, “I’ll be the cop and you can be the nasty little robber who’s in need of a good ol’ fashion spankin’.”  
  
“What if I wanted to be the cop?” You pout playfully, “You need an ass whoopin’ more than I do.”  
  
Dean grins widely, laughing lightly before leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly. As soon as it started to get heated all over again, a delicate knock on the door interrupts the two of you. “Now who the hell?” Dean groans, reluctantly pulling his mouth away from yours with a petulant pout on his lips. You both groan when a highly pitched and feminine voice calls out, “Housekeeping!”  
  
“I got it,” you tell Dean, rolling out from under him and sliding out of the bed, picking his t-shirt up off the floor and tossing it on, the bottom hem just falling under your ass. You smirk back at Dean as he sits up and faces the door, draping the satin sheets over his lower half to cover himself up.  
  
When you pull the door open, a platinum blonde woman is standing on the other side, wearing a extremely revealing maid’s uniform—the one you see at a costume store that all the teenage girls where to high school Halloween parties. You examine her, looking at her heavily painted face, her pushed up cleavage, her long legs that are supported by a pair of stripper heels, the fluffy feather duster in her hands, and the overly polite smile on her red lips. You notice the way her eyes look over your shoulder where Dean’s perched on the bed, his sculpted upper body on full display. You roll yours when she smirks.

 "I’ve come to clean the room,“ she tells you in a honeypot voice, looking you up and down with a suggestive gaze.  
  
"Absolutely not,” you say, slamming the door in her face. You turn back towards Dean, stifling a laugh as you walk back to the bed.  
  
“Y'know, if you keep slammin’ the door in the hotel employees’ faces, we’re gonna get a reputation for being that asshole couple on the second floor,” he smirks, sliding his hands around your hips as you climb into his lap.  
  
“I didn’t know we were a couple,” you gasp theatrically as you place your hands on his shoulder, smirking back at him when he rolls his eyes.  
  
“Well, everyone here thinks we’re married since we’re in the honeymoon suite,” he reminds you, quirking a brow. You both take a second to cringe, laughing humorously. “Plus, you should have asked her if you could borrow that maid outfit,” Dean smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You’d look better in it anyways.”  
  
You scoff, “Now you’re just kissin’ my ass, Winchester.”  
  
“No, this is me kissin’ your ass, sweetheart,” he grins, making quick work of throwing you down onto the bed on your stomach, making you laugh uncontrollably as he flips up the shirt you’re wearing and peppers your bare ass in playful little kisses. “You do have such a nice ass,” he murmurs against your smooth skin, purposefully skimming his teeth over the barely-there welts he’d left as a result of his his heavy blows before, making you gasp and clutch the sheets as you moan quietly. “It looks so damn good with my handprints on it,” he tells you, sliding his tongue across the pinked flesh, a dull but utterly delicious sting following behind where he licks your assaulted skin.  
  
“Dean,” you mewl, rocking back against his mouth. You gasp when his hands grab your cheeks to gently pull them apart, opening you open so he can look at your puckered back entrance.  
  
“Have you ever had a tongue back here before?” He asks, his voice dropping an octave.  
  
“No,” you pant, the image of Dean’s mouth being right there pin-balling around in your head and making your lower belly run hot with newfound arousal.  
  
“You want one?” He questions you, a smirk evident in his tone.  
  
“Fuck yeah,” you say without any hesitation, your voice breathy and light. Dean’s growl of approval fills your ears before you feel his wet, hot, strong tongue against you, in a place no man’s ever bothered to pay attention to before. The feeling is foreign to you, a strange new sense of pleasure thrumming through you–not intense or mind boggling, but strangely satisfying. And suddenly, you realized what all the hype was about, because _fuck_ , the way Dean’s circling your furled hole with the tip of his tongue has you keening, the tiny tinges of pleasure making you grow wet and swollen between your thighs and your cheeks to redden.  
  
Dean moans unabashedly, pressing the flat is his tongue against you and sliding it up the crease of your ass. He slides an arm around your waist so he can get his fingers on your clit, his tongue coming back down to tease your hole again, downright burying his face between your cheeks and making the sexiest sounds ever as he eats you in a different way. You, however, are a fucking mess, fisting the sheets so tight you might tear them, moaning and cussing like a sailor as Dean rubs your overstimulated clit quickly, practically screaming when he uses his free hand to slide two fingers into your pussy from behind, all while tonguing and probing at your fluttering asshole like he’d done it a million times before.  
  
For a second, you wonder how many girls have had the pleasure of having Dean’s tongue in this way because _goddamn_ he’s good. He has you coming so hard that you forget your own name, crying his name over and over again as you rock back into his mouth and hands, so consumed by pleasure that you don’t even notice the pain of him sinking his teeth into one of your ass-cheeks, growling almost possessively as he claims you with the mark, his fingers working you through your release. 

“Fuck!” You sob when he pulls his fingers from your sopping cunt and brings the hand down on your ass, smearing your wetness over your reddened flesh in the process. You’re in sensation overload when he laves his tongue over it, licking your skin clean and soothing the hot burn that sizzles underneath it, his fingers pressed against your throbbing clit but not moving anymore.  
  
Your whole body feels like jelly as you grow lax, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the last set of aftershocks run through you like lightening. You’re panting harshly, your eyes fighting to stay open as pure exhaustion takes over. 

“Stay right there,” you hear Dean say in a small voice, the bed dipping as he moves to get out of it, as bare as the day he was born.  
  
“As if I can move right now,” you slur, a lazy smile taking over your face as your eyes fall shut, a deep, satisfied sigh drawing from your lungs. Dean laughs lightly from somewhere in the room, the sound of him rustling around in his duffle filling your ears and making you wonder what the hell he’s doing. You don’t bother looking over your shoulder when he climbs back onto the bed a few minutes later, too tired to really care. Your eyes flutter open when you hear a cap being popped. “That better not be lube,” you murmur.  
  
“No, it’s not lube,” Dean chuckles as he straddles your thighs, “It’s lotion, it has aloe in it. It’ll help soothe your skin.” You shiver when you feel his slick hands against your ass, his touch gentle and cautious as he lathers your tender, heated flesh in the cool lotion, another deep sigh leaving you as a result. “I think I got a little carried away when I bit you,” he husks as he trails a light fingertip over the teeth marks he’d left behind on your smooth skin, sounding a bit apologetic.  
  
“’S'okay, Dean,” you smile, “I was too busy havin’ my world rocked to feel it, really.” You let him finish rubbing the lotion into your skin before sluggishly turning over onto your back, your eyes meeting his, a lazy grin appearing on your face when you see how naked he still is. He watches you trail a hand down his stomach, slowly inching down until you’re able to wrap your hand around his cock, hard and leaky as it juts out proudly between his legs, his knees tightening against your outer thighs as he hisses out in response. “You’re so hard, Dean,” you observe, feigning innocence as you look up at him, giving him a slow, teasing tug.  
  
“Fuck,” he curses, his brows knitting together in pleasure and his nostrils flaring as he breathes out deeply. “It ain’t gonna take much for me to come, sweetheart,” he tells you, gently rocking into your hand, “Watchin’ you’s got me right on the fuckin’ edge.”  
  
“Want you in my mouth, Dean,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip when his darkened eyes snap up to meet yours. You pull at his hip with your free hand, urging him to straddle your chest instead of your thighs, a deep satisfaction running through you when he obeys, slowly and carefully kneeing his way up your body until his knees are cradling your ribs, holding his weight on them so he doesn’t crush you. You blindly reach for the tube if lotion he’d left abandoned on the bed somewhere, smirking up at him when you finally find it. After you squeeze just a small amount onto your dominant hand, you wrap it around the base of his cock, slicking up his shaft half way, leaving the other half clean so you can use your mouth on it.  
  
“Fuckin’ _fuck_ ,” Dean grits his teeth, bracing his hands on the wall in front of him as he watches you part your lips and roll your tongue around the head, your hand slowly twisting and pumping around him. “Hell yeah,” he moans when you wrap your lips around just the head and suck tenderly, “Just like that, Y/N … yes.” You hum around him in reply, teasing his sensitive glans with tip of your tongue, tasting the precome that’s beading out of it. Dean’s hips jerk and he groans long and deep, the sounding ending with a quick exhale of air as he parts his lips. It’s not long before he’s coming in your mouth, a flood of musky flavor coating your tongue as you milk him with your slick hand, a sexy, sweat-glistening Dean a moaning mess above you.  
  
You swallow every drop, parting your lips and showing him your tongue after as you give him a filthy little smirk. Dean grins, chuckling and shaking his head as he carefully pulls himself off of you, falling down onto the bed beside you as he rubs his lower belly lazily. 

“Damn, girl,” he husks in a tired voice, “I had no idea you were such a minx.”    
  
You turn on your side, tossing a leg over his hips and pulling your head up to look down at him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you smile, running a hand across his chest leisurely.  
  
“Like what?” Dean asks in a sarcastic way as he returns the smile, considering he probably knows you better than anyone else.  
  
“Like … I’m really hungry right now,” you chuckle, leaning into him and playfully nibbling the taunt skin covering his pec.  
  
“Sex hungry or food hungry?” Dean smirks, a cocked eyebrow signifying he was down for either.  
  
“Mmm while you do look really appetizing right now,” you say with a grin, “I meant I could go for some food. We do get free room service while we’re here, might as well milk the system while we can.”  
  
“I like the way you think,” Dean smiles proudly, slowly pulling himself up to give you a sweet kiss before climbing out of the bed, his naked ass and bowed legs making you hum with appreciation as you watch him move. You smother a giggle when he bends over to riffle through his duffle, mumbling to himself before pulling out a fresh pair of boxers and tugging them up his strong legs. 

“What’ll it be, then?” He asks as he walks over to the bedside table and picks up the room service menu, his eyes narrowing as he examines the choices. “Maybe a pizza?” He questions, looking over at you where you’re sprawled out on the bed in just his t-shirt, a unique glow covering your fucked-out body.  
  
“Nah,” you sigh, turning over onto your stomach to look at him, your chin propped up in your hands and your feet kicking up in the air like a teenager. You feel the shirt ride up your ass, revealing itself to Dean’s eyes. “I wish thinkin’ more along the lines of a double cheeseburger with fries,” you say, “I need to resupply my energy.”  
  
Dean smirks, looking at you for just a moment before scanning the menu again. “You keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna get hard again,” he chuckles as he shakes he head, “A woman with an appetite like mine gets my blood pumpin’.”  
  
“Well, maybe after we eat,” you purr, “I can really get your blood pumping.”  
  
“Jesus, Y/N,” Dean groans, tossing the menu down in the bed before he climbs onto it, sliding himself down onto your body. “You’re gonna drive me crazy. I’ve never seen this side of you before,” he murmurs in your ear, “I like it.”  
  
“Good,” you whisper, pressing your ass up against him, “Because for the next five days, you’re gonna see all kinda sides of me.”  



End file.
